


Offside

by Ragno, xipypuck



Series: Red-Eyed Owl [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, National Hockey League
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 207,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xipypuck/pseuds/xipypuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's life is better than he could ever dream of. He has everything he needs being one of the best hockey players of the National Hockey League. He's young, famous and free to do whatever he wants. But an unexpected change of events will make him realize that maybe he does not have everything. Will he dare to pay the price in order to know what he lacks of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Since we both authors are from Spain, everything we know about Chicago is from movies, television, books and Patrick Stump. If there's any inaccuracy, please let us know. Also, English is not our first language, so we hope there aren't too many mistakes and you can enjoy the fic regardless.

  1. **Playmaker**



 

It always goes the same way. Ryan doesn’t know how they manage to always find themselves on the ropes just at the end of the last third of the match. Ryan’s good at this, his team is good, they finished the last season almost unbeaten, except for a few matches, but it’s like the Luck Gods insist in keeping things interesting until the end, even when it’s just the third match of the season and they aren’t playing anything.

His legs burn with every movement of the skates, he feels the ice pop out under his skate’s blades and the sweat is starting to roll down his forehead, from his nose, falling down his face and wetting the strap holding his helmet in place. The only thing he can hear is his own heartbeat and every deep breath he takes to fill his lungs and keep just the right amount of tension. His eyes are on Spencer, waiting to pass the puck because they’ll win this one for sure.

He steals the puck a couple of times but they’re distracting Spencer because they know howtheir game goes. Ryan passes it anyway when he sees they’re safe, but the rival doesn’t take long before getting the puck to their territory again. He prevent them to score three time in a row because that’s how it goes now, one after one, shoot to kill, searching for the tie-breaker whatever it takes.

They’re flashes, more than images, the way reality goes before his eyes when there’s just a few minutes before the match ends, and this is one of the things Ryan likes the most, the way the adrenalin makes everything look like it’s happening in a really present past. It’s like he’s reliving what he’s living all over again, the automatic moves and the thoughts and actions happening before his brain can register it.

For a moment he thinks he is too far away, that the puck is not going to reach him because his team is doing really good now that they have it and he’ll have to leave the victory on their hands. It’s not a bad idea, but leaving the victory in other people hands is not what made him become the young promise he is today, so he doesn’t distract himself, he stays alert.

They’re ten minutes away from the end and the puck goes back to the rival. Ryan sees them slide like an exhalation to the goal and hits his stick hard against the ice, moving like he needs to, throwing himself against the opponent now that they look like a pack of wolves protecting a puppy. He looks up for a second, just one second, the necessary to look at Spencer’s eyes, and it’sright there. The rush of adrenalin always leaves him mildly blind and deaf, and the puck’s a blurred spot against his stick when he twists his wrist to make a long pass through the ice and right to Spencer, now alone.

It’s a beautiful move and Ryan can already hear the cheers while he feels himself being trashed by one of the players, falling down hard on top of him, his knee pad crashing against Ryan’s thigh on purpose.

“Motherfucker.” He grunts, but he does it with a smile because he knows Spencer has scored as he sees the public get up and clap like crazy. Fuck that asshole that tried to tackle him and block his pass. It was for nothing, he didn’t even hurt him.

Ryan laughs when the guy skates away with a grunt and he stays on the ground for a few seconds, recovering with his breath still uneven because of the effort. The final whistle makes him laugh even more, closing his eyes and doing a victory movement with his arm before he pushes himself up and off the ice. He just has gotten his balance back when Spencer tests it again by throwing himself against him, celebrating the victory with a few claps on his back. Ryan does the same crashing his head against Spencer’s, both of them skating through the ice to meet the rest of the team.

The shouts and screams of victory follow them to the locker room where the coach gives them the same motivational speechas always about not lowering the guard, not being overconfident, to give the one hundred and ten percent. The only thing Ryan cares about right now is to remember the straightest way to the shower.

He takes off his helmet with a wet sound and the locks of his hair curl because of the sweat. Spencer walks by and ruffles his hair, saying something about Ryan needing to have a good cut. He laughs and nods, like always, not having the intention of following up the idea. Maybe Spencer is right, though, even if he always says that to anyone with a longer hair than his. When Ryan looks at himself in one of the mirrors he can see the sides of his hair starting to cover up his ears and the top of it is long enough for him to tie it back. He sees how his pupils are so expanded that the ocher of his eyes is barely visible, and his lower lip looks bigger than normal, probably because he keeps squeezing them together during the matches. Ryan ruffles his hair with his fingers, seeing how it defines his face and makes the jawline seem sharper.

“You’re just jealous because it looks better on me.” Ryan jokes while he takes off his clothes, laughing when he sees Spencer’s face change and he looks at him unbelieving.

“If that makes you feel better, thinking I’m jealous of _your hair_ … It’s not like I could be jealous about anything else.” He says, shrugging and turning around not before giving Ryan an arrogant look.

Ryan gives him the finger fast enough for him to see it but he keeps laughing. After all, Spencer is right. Right now he’s one of the most valued players, center and captain of the team, in addition to be the brain of most of the plays that have lead them to victory from the beginning. Ryan knew that, sooner or later, Spencer’s need to always be right would lead them to something great, that or ending up beaten up in some curb. It’s not like they didn’t have that anyway, fights, mostly when they were in high school and it looked like they would never get out of Las Vegas, that they would be damned to work in a casino and end up drinking to forget their pathetic lives.

It’s been less than ten years since those days but, looking back, Ryan feels like it’s been ages, like it happened in another life, a parallel one. It was almost ridiculous to think about being someone in the hockey world, as it was almost ridiculous just to play it in Las Vegas. If he thinks about it, Spencer and him were destined to find each other even though Ryan was a year older than him and they attended different schools. It would had been weird if two of the few naïve who decided to put all of their dedication on an ice sport in one of the hottest states of the country didn’t end up being friends.

They were barely kids when they joined the youngest team, sharing the ice with the group of figure skaters because there wasn’t any other ice rink around offering hockey classes to children. They didn’t play properly until two years later, going in with not much experience but still more than the rest of the kids. It wasn’t hard to stand out, that way, and as they grew better, they would challenge each other more and more, getting achievements they wouldn’t have imagined just because of having each other. The friendship between the two of them grew stronger, both being the brother the other one never had.

When talent spotters started to get interested in them, Ryan and Spencer always would joke about the spotters being interested just in one of them but calling the other one out of pity. The thing was the two of them were good, really good, and it was just a matter of time that they ended up climbing up positions until slipping into the professional league. Ryan had just gotten an admission letter from Boston University with a full hockey scholarship, Spencer didn’t even bother with prescriptions, when he had a few teams making offers one only can dream about from time to time. Still, Ryan played a whole season with the university team, which allowed him to take things easier than Spencer.

During the next two, almost three years they were apart, both of them kept in touch daily, first because it’s always good to have a friend you can talk with about the sport you love, even more when it becomes your job, but mostly because there’s nothing like talking to someone who has seen you fall face first to the ice stumbling over your skates when everyone around you starts to treat you like a star.

They found each other again a year ago, when The Chicago Hounds signed both of them up. Ryan was so excited about playing with the team he didn’t even think about Spencer being there too. Even though they would talk over the phone, they didn’t see each other more than a couple of times,that Ryan remembers, and shortly because you don’t have a lot of time to spend in sports events. He has to recognize that he was taken aback seeing his friend again, taller and stronger and almost two times wider than him. Not that Ryan has any complex with his body, but let’s say it’s not one you’d expect from a hockey player or from any other sport, in fact. He was always thin and skinny with androgynous features, which always got people who watched him play confused. Spencer, however, was never too strong or masculine, but now he was. Ryan guesses puberty always benefit some more than others.

“Party tonight, uh?” Says Spencer with a wide smile on his face when Ryan just steps out of the showers, walking back to the locker room with the towel wrapped around his hips. Spencer repeats ‘party!’ again while he throws an arm over Ryan’s shoulders and shakes him, and the rest of the team shouts their agreement. Ryan laughs and stays silent until Spencer lets him go and gets lost into the vapor that gets through the locker room door from the showers.

Winning at home, being weekend and having no reason to wake up early the next day don’t happen every day. It’s the best opportunity to go out and forget who they are, the restrictions of their schedule and the rules that tell them what to eat, what to drink, how much time they can sleep, when, how. It’s in the air, the small hint of freedom they have, and the guys are already getting excited even when they aren’t out of the locker room yet.Those who intend to go home before going out are putting his clothes in their bags and those who don’t think about setting foot on it until tomorrow are already talking about places to go.

Ryan takes his time, using the towel he had on his hips to rub his hair, starting to get dressed calmly while he stares at the tangible anxiety, like they were kids five minutes before the bell rings to get out on the school yard. He puts his black jeans on with trouble because his skin is still wet from the shower, pullingit up by the loops and leaving them unfastened while he turns around to get the rest of his clothes.

“Ryan.” The voice is from Cassie, the team’s physiotherapist. When Ryan turns to look at her, she smiles, moving her head and pointing at his leg with her chin. “That was an awful tackle, before. Everything okay?”

Cassie Walker was working for the team likea physiotherapist since before Ryan was signed up, before Spencer too. She got in when they replaced the medic staff, a year before Bob became coach. She was young but it seemed like she had one of the best records and recommendations you could find in Chicago. She was educated in research as well as sports physiotherapist and she had some articles published.

Reading his résumé, you almost expected to find the typical serious person with a white coat. Cassie, however, is that kind of person that gives you calmness and affability just seeing her, something not so usual in the sport field. At first, Ryan thought she was the doctor’s sister, maybe because she is the only one, besides Bob, that has not only strictly professional conversations with Patrick and because the two of them stand out for being shorter than the rest of the team. He discarded the idea soon; right after talking with her and seeing the way she treated him kindly and relaxed.

Not that Ryan has any complaint about Patrick, and God help him if he does and it comes to Bob’s notice, it’s just that the doctor is not what you call a people person. Ryan is cool with that, he’s not the most appropriate to talk when it comes to social abilities. Anyway, he hopes not to need Patrick attention, so he has nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, it was nothing.” He answers, moving his hand to play it down. He feels a light discomfort in the muscle, but nothing he can’t solvehimself at home with anti-inflammatory spray, “I’m probably better than you.” He adds, pointing at her eight and a half months pregnant belly, “How much time are they gonna keep you here? I don’t know if it would be very hygienic having the kid in the locker room. The anecdote would be awesome, though.”

“I’m not going to have my baby in the locker room.” Cassie corrects fast, looking at him shocked as she encircle her belly with a hand protectively, “In fact, I’m just waiting for the substitute, but I wanted to be sure you were fine. It seemed weird you lagged behind.” She says, looking around and seeing how the rest of the guys pile at the door. “Given what I have seen. I thought it hurts”

“Yeah. No.” Ryan shrugs, shaking his head, “I think I’m not going out.” He says lowering his voice, trying that no one hears him to avoid the outburst that would mean, probably ending with him being carried by the guys, forcing him to reconsider his words using a lot of persuasion.

Cassie looks at him with a confused expression on her face but she doesn’t say anything about it. He sees her talking with Bob later and, for what it seems, he’s going to join the party too. It’s not that unusual Bob going out with them, but normally it does not happen that Bob doesn’t have others commitments as a coach when they are free. It seems like planets have aligned today and everything is in favor of them having a good night celebrating what is the third consecutive victory of the season. It’s a good start. Ryan guess it’s a shame he’s going to miss it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, it’s not that. The problem is that his skin is pickling since a few days ago and it seems like he wasn’t able to push the adrenaline out of his body however he rubbed in the shower. Ryan is a model player, hardworking, serious, hockey is his life and he dedicates more time to it that he would do to anything, even when that anything is himself. That’s why sometimes, like this one, in which his body sends him signals of not being able to take it anymore, the need starts to eat him alive and the warmth builds up his inner thighs with any simple brush. Needless to say, practicing a sport where brushes happen daily, the need to relieve that is kind of urgent.

“Spencer!” Ryan calls him when the locker room is empty, signaling him to come near him, talking quietly when he’s close enough, “I’m not going, ok? If anyone asks, tell them my thigh is fucked up today and I need to rest.” He explains, looking at him right in the eyes to make him understand the importance of every word he’s saying. Spencer frowns, understanding but not getting it.

“But, dude. Really? Everyone’s coming, Bob’s coming, I think even Patrick is coming.” Spencer says, and Ryan’s eyes widen because, woah, it must be pretty good for Patrick to remotely think about coming to a party. “Are you really gonna miss it? We’ll be all together there.”

“Exactly. Everyone. But me.” Ryan nods, letting Spencer read into his eyes the words he’s not saying. All the team at a party means that the chances of Ryan running into someone he knows in another place are negligible. Spencer’s face changes when he gets it and Ryan knew he could trust his friend’s deduction powers.

“Oh.” Spencer nods, letting out a knowing smile, “It’s not that you don’t wanna go to the party. It’s that you’re going to go find your own party.”

Not even Ryan could have explained it better.

 

The night has that freezing and dark aura typical of Chicago in this time of the year, cold and foggy, blurred in that way only the late nights of deserted and quiet streets can be. Calculating and confusing, expectant, like the night was waiting for something to happen not knowing what to do about it.

Ryan knows very well what he wants to do, however. He knows where he is, what he’s looking for and how to find it. It’s easy. In these places it always is.

The hot air of the club contrast with the temperature of the icy city, making the air charged and dense until you can feel the warmth settling over your skin and making it sticky with dampness.That kind of heat. The heat of a lot of bodies breathing and sweating and drinking and sharing a small space, with alcohol evaporating with every breath and laugh, creating a characteristic smell of a place made for fun, excess and disinhibition. Any standard club. Alcohol, music too loud and lights too soft, more people than personal space considers appropriate and the feeling that all the problems you have can disappear with a run to the bar. Or to the toilets, if the problems are too big.

It’s a random club, really. At least to someone who’s looking for what Ryan’s looking for tonight. He could find it anywhere, in fact, but it’s easier and faster if you know exactly where to go. He knows it because this is not the first time he does it. Fuck, no. And it isn’t going to be the last.

He’s leaning against the bar, his back on it, his skinny and sharp elbows resting over it in a relaxed pose, his half drunk beer in his hand while he looks around to the multitude moving on the dance floor, brushing against each other, exchanging heat and invisible particles collected on the clothes. He’s looking at the same point for a while.

The point, to be honest, it’s not a point but a person, a guy. He’s tall, taller than Ryan even, he’s sure he has to be 6’4 feet and thanks to the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing Ryan can see his arms covered in tattoos, disappearing under the fabric and reappearing to expand all over his neck. From where he is, Ryan can’t see him properly, but he sees enough to notice his full lips, surrounded by soft stubble from his jawline to his ears, which are pierced. He’s wearing a tilted hat and he nods slowly while he talks to someone in front of him, his smile carefree and knowing, almost playful, like he is playing without even knowing it. The guy’s posture is relaxed and composed with a hint of power, like he felt the place’s owner, with square shoulders and thin figure, although not as much as Ryan’s.

Ryan knows the guy is feeling observed. And he’s feeling like that because that’s exactly what Ryan is doing. He already looked at him a couple of times and considering how much it’s been since the last one, Ryan’s sure he’s not that far from doing it again, that’s why he’s still looking. Two is casualty, three is a pattern. A pattern denote intention and that’s always bound to a goal. That guy is Ryan’s goal tonight and he doesn’t think he’s on the wrong path to get it.

He only has to lean back a little more against the bar, tilting his hips and making his movements sinuous and provocative at the same time. The guy takes exactly three seconds before he looks at him again and there it is, the last time, the definitive proof. Ryan brings his beer to his lips deliberately slow, taking a long sip and exposing his neck as he swallows, licking his bottom lip right after, keeping his eyes fixed on him as he does it. Not blinking once, not making any face, just looking. And suddenly the guy is smiling crooked and saying something to his friends with his eyes still on Ryan, starting to walk towards him when the rests nod uninterested. Strike three, change of game.

It’s that easy, with guys is always easier. Girls are different; they are long and mysterious until the end. They want you to work for it and convince them that it’s worth it. Not too good but neither too bad, kind but playful, honest but mysterious. They want you to play to follow them and get them, to move, to zigzag and manage the puck but keeping it inside their lines of game play because if you don’t then you kiss the rink. Ryan compares it with hockey because he likes hockey. And he likes girls, too.

It’s his game, it’s what he was born to do, he knows how to analyze the position, seeing where the strong points are, getting between them, stealing the puck and make the perfect pass. And step up. Girls like to see you work for it, fighting for the match like you were risking the whole season with it even though you’re only after a few points, leave a mark on the ice and their blades on your back. And Ryan enjoys the game as much as the final prize.

But this is different. When Ryan goes for guys he’s not looking to play, he doesn’t want to analyze games and dismantle strategies to get between the legs he’s got in front of him. No. With guys Ryan wants the impact of a body leaving you breathless for a moment and being a reminder the next day on his muscles, the sweat rolling down his forehead and his heartbeat in his ears, he wants the adrenaline shock of a roller skate scratching the ice fast and the grunt of a man becoming the most animal impulse until it makes you punch and shout and finish with the feeling of having made the best match of history. With guys you only need three looks and the match is yours.

“It looks like today is my lucky day.” The guy’s voice is soft but deep, and it’s hard to find a seductive tone with all the noise of the music and people around them, but he does, finishing off looking at Ryan up and down, biting his lip shamelessly, confident. Ryan likes it.

He seems even taller now that he’s right there and Ryan notice how the tattoos go up to his neck, the black ink standing out on his dark skin. It’s bigger than he looked like, so much that Ryan could fit perfectly in the wide of his shoulders. He smiles to himself while he looks at him, wondering what else does he have big. Not that Ryan trust stereotypes but after a quick look he can say the guy has such long fingers they could compete with his own. Ryan likes that, he never could say no to a good competition.

“I’m Travie, by the way.” Says the guy, as he gets closer to Ryan, leaning in to talk just a few inches apart from his ear. He doesn’t touch him and just lets his warm breath brush Ryan’s skin as he talks. Ryan smile widens but he doesn’t move his head, just takes his beer and brings it to his mouth, licking his lips when Travie leans back again to look at him.

“Ryan.” He answers. And that’s all it takes.

 

*

 

The next day they have practice Ryan is one of the first arriving to the rink with his bag hanging over his shoulder and the headphones on, listening to Refused. Spencer is already on the ice and he smiles big when he sees him, skating closer to him and stopping just beside him. Some guys are sitting on the bench, talking and laughing about the weekend party. It’s early and practice doesn’t start in a while, but some players use to come early to chat and stuff or, like Spencer and Ryan do, to skate the two alone on the rink like the old times.

“I haven’t seen your face since the game, Casanova.” Spencer jokes, and Ryan can’t see it under the helmet but he bets his friend is moving his eyebrows knowingly. They’ve been together for too many years.

“The party stretched on…” Ryan shrugs and smiles. It’s true, he spent the Friday night with Travie and the next morning too, something he didn’t do a lot except when they offered a good plan. And that night Travie showed him he was a _very_ good plan. He spent the rest of the weekend at home making up for the lack of sleep. Spencer laughs loudly and shakes his head, starting to skate again into the ice.

“Are you gonna see her again?” He asks, and Ryan snorts and laughs, frowning and looking at his friend like he was offended.

“Of course not.” He answers like it is obvious, “It’s like you don’t know me at all. You know my star rule.”

“One girl, one night.” Says Spencer, shaking his head but keeping the smile on, “One day, Ryan Ross, someone will melt that icy and dark heart of yours.”

“My what?” Ryan jokes, walking towards the locker room, “Be ready for me to kick your ass, Smith, I’m on fire.” He says, winking and walking to the locker room’s entrance to change. Spencer laughs hard, moving but still looking at Ryan.

“It seems like the party didn’t stretch on that much, then.” Spencer jokes, raising his voice to make sure Ryan hears him.

Ryan goes into the locker room laughing and shaking his head. Walking to the locker, he runs into the team’s doctor and waves his hand as a greeting, walking through the door and going straight to his locker. As he leaves the things there and changes, he thinks about Spencer and the conversation they were having. He knows very well he didn’t correct him when he thought his one night stand was a girl, Ryan never does.

Actually, they are girls most of the times. Not because he has any preference or because the guys are a dark secret. No way. It’s just that, in the sports world, the girls just happen, he doesn’t have to look for them. Guys are different. Guys are not flirting openly nor being obvious about what they’re looking for if they want someone of the same sex. It doesn’t matter how much people say about accepting to see two guys together, no one wants to see two people of the same sex flirting openly in the end. Even less if one of them is a professional hockey player. Or maybe more, but with other intentions.

So he doesn’t have to look for girls. He has to do it for guys. And that’s why, sometimes, when he feels like it, he is the one that goes out looking for them instead of waiting the opposite. It’s not that Ryan thinks Spencer is going to judge him for this or turn his back on him, it’s just that it’s something he has never said, a conversation they have never had. And Ryan thinks just saying it like ‘hey, no, it was a “him” not a “her”’ it’s unnecessary. The main thing was he’s been with someone, who cares with who?

He goes back to the rink a while later with the helmet still unfastened and the gloves under his arm, walking into the ice and hearing the sound of his skates’ blades scratching the cold surface as he moves around, fastening up his helmet and getting his fingers into the padding leather. When he goes back where he went in, he bends down to pick up the stick he left there before, skating towards Spencer and stopping right in front of him, forcing him to do the same if he doesn’t want to crash with Ryan.

Spencer hits him with his stick on his arm softly, a friendship sign, before he hits the ice with it a couple of time, adjusting the puck where he wants it and looking at Ryan.

“How much time do we have? What do we bet?” He asks, starting to move the puck fast from here to there just out of impatience. Ryan smiles crooked and steals the puck in a quick movement, turning around and protecting the puck with his body.

“Twenty minutes or so.” He answers looking over his shoulder, “The first to score five, pick up dinner. The other one pays.”

“I’m gonna ruin you, prepare your pocket.” Spencer laughs, moving the stick in a quick hit and skating hard to slide like an exhalation.

Ryan dodges him and takes the puck to the opposite side, turning around again and skating fast towards Spencer’s goal, looking back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure he’s not too close. It’s not like Spencer didn’t know all his moves, and he’s a clever motherfucker, he’s captain for a reason, even though Ryan is faster, as much as Spencer insist on saying that’s only because of the weight difference. ‘If there were categories, you’d be in fly weight’ he used to say to upset him when they were younger. Spencer always liked that, pretend to be the big brother even though he’s one year younger, the idiot.

“So how was it?” Ryan hears Spencer with his breath fast just behind his ear and really, how the fuck does he do it? Spencer laughs as he keeps skating, trying to steal the puck, “Aren’t you going to give me the details? I’m starting to think it was an awful fuck and you didn’t come back because you couldn’t take the humiliation.” He says, turning around quickly and winning the puck, skating fast in the opposite direction, hitting the puck and making the black seem blurred against the white when he sends it right into the goal.

Ryan swears and laughs, going to the goal to get the puck and bringing it back to the center line so they can begin the second round, his breath uneven and his muscles warming up.

“ _Fucks_. In plural.” Ryan clarifies before moving again, leaning slightly to the right but getting the puck between Spencer’s legs and skating to his left quickly, skating fast until he reaches the attack zone and hitting the puck hard to get it into the goal. Spencer shakes his head and takes off one of his gloves with his teeth just to give him the middle finger, the childish idiot, “I barely slept Friday and I got home late on Saturday. Let’s say it was… a resistance test.”

“You stayed the night?” Spencer asks surprised, taking back the puck and beginning to skate around so this is not too boring, making Ryan follow him and turning the game more interesting.

“Technically.” Ryan says, stretching out and moving his stick to steal the puck, grunting when Spencer dodges him. He turns around and places himself in front of him, skating backwards while he tries to get back the puck, “I spent the night fucking so it doesn’t count as ‘staying the night’. I slept a couple of hours before going at it again.” Ryan laughs when he steals the puck again, going to the center of the rink, zigzagging and stopping just to do it again.

Spencer stays still for a moment, meaning he just moves because he has to but he’s not trying to attack. Ryan knows his body language, though, and it says he’s just abandoned brute force to go for strategy. Fucking Spencer, he doesn’t know how to take a game for what it is. Now he’s gonna make it difficult. And the fucker is sure of himself, because he’s not doing anything to stop Ryan from scoring this one.

“You found a hard nut to crack, right? One of those who put you in your place.” Spencer gets closer but doesn’t try anything, just looks at Ryan closely and that’s almost worse. “You know what I did on Saturday? Dinner with Linda’s parents. Same, right?”

“Ohh, it sounds like fun.” Ryan laughs, making a decision and playing Spencer game, stopping with the puck still, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “And how was it?”

“It wasn’t bad.” He answers, shrugging as he moves fast towards Ryan, hitting his stick with his own and sending the puck to his own goal before Ryan’s incredulous eyes. “The reward after that was better. That’s yours.” He says, pointing to the goal before going to get the puck, “And yes, I’m talking about sex. Not _fucks_. Making love, you know, when you cuddle with the other person after coming and you don’t care about being gross.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that.” Says Ryan, returning to his position, staring at Spencer move the puck. “You’re a inveterate romantic at heart, Smith. All those girls… they cry because they can’t have you.”

“And you go to comfort them, don’t you? We’re a good team even for that.” Spencer smiles as he starts a new game, this time totally planned, moving from here to there like the motherfucker was playing a match and he had the whole team over him instead of Ryan alone. When it seems like he’s going to win, when he overtake him and get him, Spencer stops dead on his tracks, making the ice jump under his skates, and moves to circle Ryan until he’s behind him. He hits the puck hard and gets the puck between Ryan’s legs, sending it right to the net. “Woah! Have you seen that? That should be worth two points, fuck, I’m a fucking ace.”

“You know me… I can’t stand to see those girls brokenhearted because of you.” Ryan goes fast to get the puck and risks it without care, going straight to Spencer’s goal and dribbles on his way there, lowering down when he gets closer to Spencer’s body to hit him right on the chest with his shoulder in a counterblockade and make him lose the few seconds he needs to get closer to the goal and hit, the echo of the stick against the ice ringing in the stadium. Spencer ends up falling on the ice, laughing out loud with a swear that names all of Ryan’s ancestors. “I just take care of them. Or they take care of me, sometimes.”

“And then you ask why Linda makes a disgusting face every time she sees you.” Grunts Spencer from the ice, raising a hand for Ryan to help him get up even if he doesn’t need it. “I won’t spend more than a hundred bucks to feed that poor excuse of a butt you have there. And I choose the restaurant, we all know what happened the last time we let you choose that experimental food.”

Ryan laughs and leaves the stick on the floor to help Spencer get back on his skates, patting his shoulder and taking off his gloves in a quick move, unbuckling the helmet and doing the same.

“What did I do to your girlfriend?” He asks, and it’s a legitimate question because he’s been wondering that himself from the beginning. “In essence, I’m a good guy, have you tell her? Or have you just told her those stories where you fuck me over to save your own ass, fucker?”

“It’s not what you did to her. It’s, you know, to the rest of the female community. Empathy, they call it. Maybe you’ve heard of it.” Spencer laughs with sarcasm, standing up and patting Ryan’s shoulder. “And don’t worry, I didn’t have to tell her anything. At least, not me. But if you think the girls you’ve been with are gonna keep the secret, dude, you’re fucked. By the way, Linda says she doesn’t believe the rumors about your dick. I haven’t confirmed nor denied it, I let it keep being a mystery.” He adds with an ~~d~~ asshole smile. Ryan laughs, closing his eyes and covering them with a hand.

“Okay, look. First of all, I treat the girls I’m with fine, okay? It’s not like they want to marry me, and if they do I assure you it’s not because they’re so in love with me.” Ryan defends himself because, really, he could admit being with a different girl every weekend wasn’t the best publicity ever, but it’s not like those girls wanted to get to know him. Probably neither of them would stand him if they did, unless his bank account could compensate that much. Ryan has met a lot of girls like that. Not all of them, but enough to make him not trust that much. He can admit he wasn’t interested in getting to know any of them more than what he wanted from them, but he’s pretty sure it was the same way around. “And second, she believes everything else but not that? Maybe it’s jealousy talking…” He smiles, looking between Spencer’s legs. Spencer hits him again with the stick, this time harder, frowning with a stern look on his face.

“Careful, Ross. You’re talking about my girlfriend. And about my cock. And those are two sacred things.” He warns with one of those looks that let you know he’s joking but he wouldn’t doubt of breaking a stick on your head if you keep it up. “They’re both very happy with each other, by the way. I don’t need a deformity between my legs to satisfy my female.”

“I don’t think Linda would be very happy to hear you calling her ‘your female’.” Says Ryan, laughing and looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “She would probably say you spend too much time with me. Even if I never called any woman ‘female’, for the record.”

“What do you know? Maybe she likes it. Maybe she calls me ‘my stud’, and we put on furry costumes in bed. You lack of imagination, dude.” Spencer says, totally serious, laughing out loud when he sees Ryan’s face.

“I was just about to ask you to tell me more, but that’s a lie bigger than your house.” He says, pushing him a little and starting to skate to the bench where the rest of the team is already and the coach is coming from the locker room tunnel. “Maybe not a furry, but I can see you enjoying a good nurse costume, uh, pervert?”

“Having in mind that my mom is a nurse, I can’t think of anything more fucking disgusting than that.” Spencer says, his face reflecting his words clearly while he follows Ryan, raising a hand to say hi to the guys when they do the same. “But I won’t deny those bad cop costumes could make me confess a few crimes.” He says winking at Ryan, making him laugh and nod.

“Oh, dude, I did one of those and you don’t know how much I feel you.” He says, biting his lip and shaking his head when he remembers it. Spencer’s about to say something else when Bob gets closer to them with a wrinkled nose, punching both of them on the shoulder.

“Focus, dammit, we’re starting. Every damn day the same. If you want I’ll let both of you to have a little time alone in the locker room later, but I want you with the head on the game now, understand?”

“Yes, boss.” Ryan says, looking at Spencer repressing a laugh when Bob gets away from them both, scolding some other teammates who are also distracted, grumbling about working with kids, like he wasn’t just ten years older than them. Although of course, ten year in sports it’s like a century in real life. The years of a sport player are to the years of the rest of humans the same as dog’s years. Lets say, following the allegory, that Bob’s an old dog.

Even if he’s a grouch and he communicates more with huffs than with actual words, Bob is a good guy in general, one of the best coach Ryan’s had, not just in a professional field but also as a person. Ryan has had a lot of coaches along his career and let’s say not all of them treat you as a human being, most of them just see you as a chore or, when you start to ascend, as merchandise. That extends to the rest of the team and the club in general. Ryan can’t say this club is particularly different to the rest of the clubs, but Bob is different to the rest of the coaches.

Retired hockey player, Bob was one of the best when he was still active. He has what they call ‘the whole pack’; he’s agile, strong and smart like just a few are. Usually in this world, if you have good physical qualities, it’s weird to decide to educate yourself in tactics and strategies too. It’s easier to let others think for you and dedicate yourself to do what best know. Only a few decide to cultivate every field. A few like Bob, a few like Spencer. Besides, Bob has something that Spencer hasn’t, and it’s that, at first sight, one wouldn’t tell he’s the smartest man in the world. Ryan has never say this out loud, of course, because he couldn’t take the risk of Bob hearing him and breaking his neck with his bare fingers like he brakes a wooden match. And that’s an advantage, because the rival never expects the brilliance that comes out of Bob’s mind sometimes. Thanks to him they got to the final last season, that and the team, that’s one of the best of the country. And that’s what will get them to the final again this season, to win this time.

“I excuse you that dinner,” says Ryan when they go back on the ice after structuring the practice, Bob getting the pucks on the rink, “if you ask your mom to make me dinner tomorrow.”

“My mom would take my fucking plate off me and give it to you if you came home without notice, so I don’t think I would have to insist too much.” Says Spencer, taking a look at the rink to be sure everything is in order, the team placed as it should. It’s not his job, but it _is_ his job. Spencer Smith, he would die if he doesn’t control something.

“We have a deal, then.” Ryan says smiling because he knows Spencer’s totally right. “Call her later. I’ll do it, but you know I will forget about it.”

Spencer grunts something that insults Ryan’s memory capacity before turning his Team Captain mode on in less than Ryan takes to adjust his stick in his hands. That’s Spencer’s way of telling he’s not Spencer anymore, now he’s Captain Smith, doing justice to the 31 on his back under his name. Spencer always had hockey shirts with his name and the number 31 under it since he was a little brat and his parents wondered what the hell was doing a Vegas kid getting interested in ice hockey. The first one he bough was pure chance, he liked that it was his name on the back even if he didn’t know whom that guy Smith was. Later on Ryan would be hearing once and again the stories of Billy Smith, night and day non-stop, Spencer promising himself to get that far, to achieve the same glory.

“Spence, you’re not even a goalkeeper.” Had said Ryan once, but he just got Spencer to look at him upset and stop talking to him for a whole eight hours. Ryan learned not to mess with Spencer fanboy side and Spencer promised not stopping talking to Ryan anymore for that long.

Spencer’s on the right path, anyway, if not to replicate Smith achievements, to get their own ones, equally important. Spencer’s one of those people you know would be something big, and not because he’s super charismatic and he can win his way up with smiles and favors, but because he’s the most hardworking person Ryan’s ever known. If Spencer Smith believes in something, then you can be sure Spencer Smith won’t give it up.

It feels good to be back on the rink. Ryan never says no to some good holidays but, even when he’s on vacation, he never hangs down the skates. Bob’s always insisting him about not skating too much out of the team practices at risk of getting hurt for nothing and all that, but it’s not like Ryan could stay away from the ice for so long.

Now it’s been a few weeks since they’re back, but getting on the rink again almost feels like coming back from holidays. It always happens, those first weeks, the first practices and games feels like the first he plays in his life, and that’s one of the things he loves about this sport. He can’t get bored, there’s no routine, no matter how many times he puts on those skates on the ice, he always feels that prickling feeling in his stomach, the adrenalin running through his veins until his hair stands on end.

He slogs his guts out in practice, as they all do, and he enjoys it. Hockey is his fucking temple and he doesn’t remember not even once since he plays to think about wanting practice to end already. That’s what happens now, and time passes fast between techniques and strategies and, last of all, a game during the last forty-five minutes of practice. It’s not until that moment, when things get serious and they tackle him against a wall, when he feels again that sharp pain in this thigh, the muscle tensing and prickling as if he was pulling it a little. He’s not. It’s just the hit, and it hurts a bit for a few minutes when he goes back to the game, skating, feeling the relief when he doesn’t work with that leg, recovering a little while after.

Bob shouts at them to get out when practice is over, and Ryan feels the sweat gathering under his helmet, his breath fast while he takes off his gloves and the helmet, shaking his hair off when he gets off the rink. Two of his teammates stop to talk to Bob and a new girl Ryan thinks it’s the new psychology coach, he’s not sure. Bob said something about hiring her, but Ryan was just paying attention to half of the conversation, as usual. Spencer makes a gesture with his head and moves a finger to ask him if they’re going back home together. Cassie bumps into Ryan before he can answer.

“Hey, Ryan.” The girl walks slowly, with a hand holding her huge belly and a smile on his face. Ryan really wonders if the club plans on making her give birth right there. Maybe Patrick is also a gynecologist. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” He answers, a little confused about the question even if he can see where this is going.

“Is your thigh okay?” She asks again, raising a hand to place it on Ryan’s shoulder in a friendly and familiar way, but what Ryan knows is just a tactic to make him stay there and not leave her hanging to go to the showers. And really, Ryan needs that shower. “It’s not giving you any trouble?”

“No.” Ryan shrugs, and it’s not that he’s lying, really, it’s just that he knows his thigh is not a problem. It was just the hit, nothing a couple of days with anti-inflammatory spray can’t fix. “It was just the hit. It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt.” For now, because he’s still warmed up. He doesn’t say that. But Cassie’s not stupid, she furrows her brow and lowers her sight, as if she already got tired of being nice and was about to scold him for being such a stubborn. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ryan.” She starts, but then she wrinkles her nose and shrinks a little, her face contracting in pain and the hand holding her belly moving to hold it now with the whole arm. “I think you’re going to have a new skating pal in this lady.” She smiles, panting a little and looking back at Ryan. “You don’t even know how active she is lately. But, back to your thigh, don’t be a stubborn, okay? I’m not going to insist because right now I have you here, stinking and wanting to go to rest, probably. But, I’m serious, Ryan. If you feel anything, _anything_ , come to see me. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I get paid to do. If not, I would be at home, lying down, that’s what I’d like, even if I can’t seem to find a confortable position…” She complains, and Ryan laughs even if the situation is weird. He guesses mothers are like that, they share those private details with people they’re not even that friends because it’s normal, it’s _beautiful_ and stuff. On the other hand, Ryan probably has had Cassie’s hands on him more than anyone else’s, so they’re kind of past that public/private territory.

“Promise.” He says with a sigh, making a move with his head to say goodbye and pointing at her belly. “Buy her a pair of skates as soon as she learns how to walk.”

“You buy them.” Replies Cassie, laughing still with her arm around her belly. “They pay you more than me.”

 


	2. Dangle

 

    Ryan sends the puck right to the wall in order to reach Spencer on the rebound, shouting out loud victorious when the shot goes well and the puck ends up right on the captain’s stick, because it’s not something that always happen, even when they practice it a million times. When it’s not another player’s stick cutting the puck’s path, he hits too hard, or too weak. This time it strikes home and Spencer can sneak the puck in the goal right before Bob blows the whistle and says the match and the practice is over.

    He gets closer to Spencer while taking off his helmet, his chest moving up and down with every breath, and he smiles wide, hitting their shoulders together.

    “That’s the play for the next match,” Ryan says while they skate to the exit of the rink, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

    “Maybe when we’re able to do it right more than just once, and not just by luck, “ answers Spencer, but he has that smile on his face that tells he’s already thinking about every possible advantage that a play like that can give them. He goes straight to his bag, grabbing two bottles of water and throwing one of them at Ryan. “You’re welcome,” he says with sarcasm, as if he knew already Ryan forgot once again to bring anything to drink. As if there weren’t enough vending machines in the stadium.

    “Come on, it was a perfect pass,” answers Ryan, ignoring him and taking a long sip from the bottle, sitting down and starting to untie his skates. “You can’t call that luck, we read out minds, Spence.”

    “Yeah? Well, tell me. What am I thinking?” he asks, laughing at Ryan and leaning back on the bench where he’s sat to take off his outfit, putting two fingers in each temple.

    “You’re thinking about getting laid with Linda last night,” Ryan smiles, pointing him with his index finger. “It’s written all over your face.”

    “Fail. I didn’t get laid last night, due to circumstances that escapes my control,” Spencer answers after making a screechy sound with his mouth, as if they were in a TV quiz. “But I’ll let it pass, because I think you’re watching my future, not my past.”

    “Your future or her future?” Tom says, taking part in the conversation with an asshole smirk, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and pointing at Ryan with his head. Spencer takes one of his gloves, throwing it at Tom right on his face without giving him time to dodge it.

    “We’re talking about my girlfriend, Oakes. The next time, it’ll be a skate,” Spencer warns and Ryan laughs, trying not to choke on the water he’s drinking. He’s going to open his mouth to say something when he’s interrupted.

    “Ross. Physio,” Bob says, with that tone that makes you know there’s no possible discussion. Ryan frowns and looks at him confused, opening his mouth to ask why him, because he’s not one of taking order just like that. That’s why, probably, he’s the one who receives most of Bob’s slaps on the back of the neck.

    “Why?” he asks, like a child who’s told they’ve got to go home early from the park. His thigh didn’t even hurt today. Not much. Bob didn’t have to know it, anyway. But it looks like he knows by the way he looks at Ryan.

    “You’re not standing on that leg the same way as on the other one. And Cassie told me you hurt your thigh, so no questions. The last thing I need is to have my best defenseman injured just in the beginning of the season. Neither in the end,” he adds, starting to turn around and letting be clear that the conversation is over with his last words. “Physio. Now.”

   Ryan sighs and rolls his eyes when Bob can’t see him anymore, putting on his sneakers and grabbing the skates with one hand and his bag with the other one before standing up. Spencer looks at him sympathetic, probably feeling sorry for him, but not saying anything because no one dares to open their mouths when Bob gives an order.

    “I’ll see you guys inside,” he says to Spencer and Tom, starting to head out of the locker room.

    The physiotherapy room is right in front of the access to the locker room, next to the infirmary and an office where Patrick stays the days he comes to work. The door is ajar when Ryan gets there, and he doesn’t bother knocking at it, pushing it to enter the room. Cassie has earned his discourtesy anyway, tattling to the coach about Ryan’s thigh, even when it’s nothing wrong with his thigh at all. It’s just a blow, for God’s sake; they’re not even giving it time for the spray to be effective.

    Ryan goes in ready to tell Cassie he’s decided not to buy those little skates for her kid as a revenge, but his words get stuck on his throat when he realizes that the person inside the room is not Cassie. The person that’s not Cassie is sitting on Cassie’s chair, behind Cassie’s desk, and reading Cassie’s reports on the players. It’s a guy, something that Cassie’s not, either, and Ryan can see he’s got black hair and slightly pale skin, because the guy’s with his back facing Ryan, looking at the filing cabinet, where those reports he’s reading are probably stored. For a second, Ryan thinks there’s a radio playing really low music somewhere, but he soon discovers it’s nothing like that,

    “ _Reindeers are better than people. Sven, don’t you think that’s true?_ ” The guy that’s not Cassie sings suddenly, at full volume, not shy at all. Ryan steps back slowly, bending his head to look at the nameplate right next to the door, checking he’s really in the physiotherapy room and not in Disneyland. “ _Yeah, people will beat you. And curse you and cheat you_ ,” the guy keeps singing, this time changing his voice, closing the file he was reading and putting it in the cabinet. “ _Every one of them's bad except you_. Oh.” The guy stops singing when he turns in his chair and sees Ryan standing there, but he doesn’t look embarrassed or anything like that. In fact, Ryan has the feeling that, if he doesn’t say something, the guy would keep singing.

    “You’re not Cassie,” Ryan says raising an eyebrow, not knowing what a guy who’s singing a Frozen’s song is doing where his therapist should be. He’s not going to think about what does it mean that he himself has recognized the song, that’s another matter completely.

    Now that he sees him face to face, the guy cannot be much older than Ryan himself. In fact, Ryan thinks he looks much younger, with dark and vivacious eyes, and a friendly smile that takes all of his face, framed by lush lips which color stands out from the rest of his skin.

    “And you’re not Sven,” the guy smiles wider, and it doesn’t really makes sense because this is the first time they see each other, but he does like they were lifelong friends. “I’m Brendon. Cassie’s on leave. Didn’t Bob tell you, guys?” The guy asks, looking at Ryan, his huge eyes scanning him from head to toe. Ryan raises an eyebrow and he tries to remember. It’s probable that Bob had told them in some time. Ryan’s used to be distracted easily out of the rink; it wouldn’t be odd if he weren’t paying attention if Bob told them. He shrugs, and keeps looking at the new guy, not knowing how to read that he were singing Frozen. _Frozen_.

    “I guess he did, yes,” he answers, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. He remembers Cassie was awfully pregnant, so the guy must be telling the truth. “Okay,” he says, starting to turn around to go back to the locker room. Cassie’s not there to bother him about his thigh, and Bob doesn’t have to know that he never was at the physio. Technically, he’s been here, actually.

    “Hey, wait!” The guy’s voice sound behind Ryan and, before he can turn back around, he can listen how the chair moves and Brendon walks towards him. “I’m not sure if I made it clear. I’m standing in for Cassie. So, anything you came here for…” he says, not finishing the sentence, just pointing at himself. Now that he’s standing up, and too close, to be honest, Ryan can see that the guy’s a little shorter than him. And he probably has some sort of medical condition that prevents him from stopping smiling. Like the Joker.

    “Nah, it’s okay,” Ryan says, moving his hand to play it down. “It’s nothing. I’ll leave you to your things. You know. Singing Frozen and stuff,” he adds, nodding as a goodbye and going on his way to the locker room.

    “You’re Ross, right?” Brendon talks again with no sign of feeling even a little offended with those last words Ryan has said. “Yes. Ross. Eighty-nine. Ryan Ross.” He answers to himself, walking towards Ryan. “You sure everything is in order?” He asks, scanning him again from head to toe with his gaze, and it’s not that Ryan feels inhibited easily, but Brendon’s making him nervous looking at him like that.

    “Do you see anything that’s not in order?” He asks, pulling at his skates to keep them from slip down his hand, grabbing them better. Brendon shrugs, his smile changing not just on his mouth but all over his face at the same time that he step up to close the distance between them and reaches to grab Ryan’s thigh hard, digging his fingers in the muscle, the son of a bitch. Ryan feels a stabbing pain because he’s digging his fingers right where he’s hurting, and he tighten his jaw. And, really, has this dude heard about personal space? Brendon smiles with satisfaction, moving his hand away and stepping back, raising his chin to look at Ryan.

    “Yes, everything seems perfectly fine. Cassie should be exaggerating when she left me that note saying to check on you,” he says with irony, putting his hands in his pockets. “If I can’t do anything for you, then you’re free to go,” he adds, looking at Ryan overconfident.

    Ryan looks back at him. He looks at him squinting, suspicious, absolutely intrigued. Cassie had left homework for Brendon; he knew where the problem was, that was clear. If there were a problem.That there’s not. So Ryan doesn’t really get that last thing. He doesn’t really get Brendon, in general. He just met him five minutes ago, yes, but people tend to be more predictable. More. Normal.

    “You’re the physio.” Ryan says, knowing he’s about to blow his own cover, but he’s too intrigued to let it go. “Shouldn’t you force me to go inside there and check me up?”

   “ _But people smell better than reindeers. Sven, don't you think that I'm right?_ ” He sings suddenly, making impersonations again. “ _That's once again true. For all except you,_ ” he continues, changing the lyrics of the last verse. “ _You’ll call me when you fuck it up_.” He finishes with a smile, turning around and going back to his office. “About the smell. That was a hint, by the way,” he adds, raising his voice enough for Ryan to hear.

    Ryan rises his eyebrows, incredulous, paralyzed on the spot while he sees Brendon disappearing inside the room and wondering from which planet had they bring up that specimen, and who does he think he is to tell Ryan he stinks. Of course he stinks, he just finished practice. Also, how was that an answer? And why is he so sure Ryan’s going to fuck up his thigh? Ryan’s too confused to his taste, and it’s not like he’s going to stop and try to answer all of those questions, anyway.

    He huffs and shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath about what an asshole the new physiotherapist seems, and heading to the locker room without looking back towards the way Brendon has disappeared.

    To make it worse, Bob is waiting for him when he gets there, with arms akimbo as if he were ready to give him a scolding before knowing anything. A few of his teammates take a look at them and start picking up their things fast, to go to the showers or to leave already. It’s not like Ryan has already a reputation regarding Bob’s scowls. Not _that much_.

    “So? Anything new?” Asks the coach, making a gesture with his head to point Ryan’s leg.

    “Oh. Everything seems great,” Ryan answers with a bit of sarcasm, using literally the physio’s words. “His words, not mine.” He lets his bag on the bench, taking off his shirt and starting to unbuckle the protective gear, sighing when he starts to feel light again taking all of that weight off him.

    Bob stares at him with a frown, as if those weren’t the words he was expecting to hear. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but he doesn’t go away either, standing right there looking at Ryan but not really seeing him.

    “How about the new guy?” Bob asks suddenly when he speaks again, the confused expression still on his face. “He’s Cassie’s friend, a colleague or something like that, I don’t know, he seems too young, don’t you think? The club gave him the job because the two of them have some kind of arrangement or something like that, something about the maternity leave and paperwork and stuff. I trust her, because she’s a great professional, but…” Bob looks at Ryan again, lowering down his gaze to Ryan’s thigh, going back to his face then. “What do you say?”

    Ryan could say a lot of thinks. Like Cassie should have friends a little less weird or, at least, someone able to acknowledge personal space. He could say the new guy is rude and obvious and, yeah, maybe he’s too young due to the fact that he has a weird fondness for singing Frozen songs at work. Instead of that, Ryan just shrugs, on one hand, because he shouldn’t be the one judging people for things like that. Or maybe yes, but not out loud. But, most of all, because he has an innate quality that nothing and no one has ever been able to change: curiosity. And the new physio, asshole or not, has awaken Ryan’s interest. Ryan’s not sure if what pisses him off the most is having that curiosity about Brendon or Brendon’s absurd comment about his body odor. Absurd and _obvious_.

    “Are you asking me if he should stay?” Ryan asks Bob, because he looks like he’s waiting for an answer. He looks at Bob with his towel on his shoulder, wearing just his underwear, wishing he could get under the shower as soon as possible.

    “It’s not like your opinion is worth shit,” says Bob, shrugging, “but I want to know if my boys are well treated, because the only thing I need is some incompetent kid trying to handle elite hockey players. And, for starters, he already told you your leg is okay when even I am able to see your thigh is going to be a problem eventually if you don’t get it checked. So, yeah, I’m asking you because you’re the first one who’s been treated by him as a professional.

    Ryan looks at Bob and considers his options. On one hand, he could tell the truth; Brendon didn’t check him up because Ryan said it wasn’t necessary, what would end up with the bigger scolding of the century. And, on the other hand, he could say again that those were the physio’s words and leave it to an open interpretation, letting Brendon be the one receiving the scolding. It’s an easy choice, having in mind that he doesn’t even know that guy and, also, he was kind of a jerk with Ryan.

    “He didn’t check me up. I told him it wasn’t necessary.” Ryan says after a deep sigh, getting ready to hear Bob give him a speech and thinking he deserves it for being so damn stupid.

    “Holy fucking mother of God, Ross!” Bob yells, the veins in his forehead starting to beat and that Nordic whiteness of his face turning red almost immediately. What follows is a thousand words about how thoughtless he is, how can he take so little care of himself, how unprofessional of him that is, all of that seasoned with the best collection of swears Bob Bryar style.

    Definitely, the guys were right getting the hell out of there when they saw the opportunity. Ryan just clenches his jaw and listens because he can’t do anything else, and because, deep down inside, he knows Bob’s right. Ryan’s stubborn, _really_ stubborn, but there’s a line and he knows pretty well when he has crossed it, because this is what happens when he does. Maybe Bob has happened to give him more than once a piece of his mind, but it’s been just a few times when he has gotten as furious as he is now, telling him not only how irresponsible he’s been neglecting his health, but making clear that his attitude is defiant to the coach, and the coach is his superior.

    Ryan is the first who doesn’t want to miss the competition because of an injury; it’s just that he didn’t think he needed physical therapy. It’s his thigh, who better than him could know where’s his limit? Anyway, he has to admit Bob’s right, and that’s what he does, apologizing with his coach and promising it won’t happen again.

    Spencer’s waiting for him on the way out the stadium, and Ryan has to smile because he can’t believe his friend has stayed there waiting for him for the hours Bob has kept Ryan there giving him the speech and also the time Ryan has taken to finish being ready to go home.

    “Dude, I could hear it from the parking lot. You better go see Patrick instead of that new physio guy, to check if Bob has made you deaf,” jokes Spencer, putting an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, trying to lighten up the mood. Ryan laughs a bit without really feeling it.

    “I deserved it.” He says, shrugging. Having in mind the number of scolding from Bob he has already taken, it could seem like he didn’t care that much, but he does. Ryan didn’t like to be the one always on the receiving end of the yelling from the coach, he didn’t look for it. It’s just that, sometimes, he didn’t think about the consequences of his acts. Or, well, always.

    “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Tomorrow you go see that new kid and everything will be fine,” Spencer says, patting Ryan’s shoulder and starting to walk. “Come on, my mom already have an extra plate for dinner.”

 

 

*

 

    When Ryan gets to practice that evening, the most of the team is already there. He’s not in the best mood possible, after all of what happened the last day, and he hopes the practice can help him to bolster him up. After all, if there’s anything Ryan knows he can count on, that’s hockey. Spencer’s there too, sitting on a bench with Aaron, Blake, Derek and Jeff. When he sees Ryan, he raises a hand and makes a gesture to tell him to come, getting it down then to keep putting his shin pads.

    “… and he says next summer he wants to go canyoning. He showed me pictures from when he went to South America. That dude jumped off a fucking cliff!” Derek explains, talking while moving his hands, with his eyes wide open, as if he were narrating a fantastic story. “He’s out of his fucking mind, but he’s an ace, I fucking tell you.” He concludes, satisfied. “I told him he has to come to the next party we throw after a game. I bet he’s savage.”

    “Is it true he comes to work skateboarding? Tom said he saw him skating in the corridors. Is that allowed?” Asks Jeff, but he does it laughing, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “What a fucking boss.”

    Ryan says hi to everyone when he lets himself fall near Spencer, high-fiving Derek and Blake, and ruffling Aaron’s hair.

    “What is it that have you all chattering up like housewives?” He asks with a smile, getting his things out of his bag and taking off his shirt. He lefts the one that he had under it and starts putting on the protections over that one, leaving the chest guard at his side to start with the knee and shin pads over the thermal leggings.

    “The new physio. Urie.” Says Jeff, stopping a second to remember his name. “Derek and Aaron were talking to him and then he came by to say hi to the ones who were here playing a game this morning. We played cards later, and the motherfucker is good even at that. I think he’s one of those gifted kids, like the ones who go to some TV show and recite one million digits of Pi.”

    “He graduated when he was seventeen, did you know that?” Says Aaron, talking as if he were telling a secret. “And the club hired him to fill in for Cassie because he’s like, I don’t know, a prominent figure in that physiotherapy thing.” He says absolutely convinced. That confuses Ryan a little bit. If he remembers well, Bob told him Cassie was the one who set up Brendon for the job, for some kind of agreement they had, and the club said it was okay so they wouldn’t have to do more paperwork. Maybe he heard wrong.

    “I think his family has money or something, but he’s kind of a free spirit of some shit. There’s no other way he can afford to go to South America for holydays to jump off cliffs and decide to earn his life as a physiotherapist.” Says Blake, looking at Ryan then. “Didn’t you have an appointment with him today? Not that I care that much for your health to keep a registry, it just that half of the city knows about it.” He says, and everyone else laughs. Ryan tightens his gloves once he has put everything on while the others were chattering about the physio’s life, and uses a fake smile. And he was hoping his mood would lighten up.

    “I’m going to the ice.” It’s the only thing he says, grabbing his stick and passing through his teammates to get to the entrance of the rink, getting in and letting that the sound of the blades scratching the ice hide the voices of the rest of the guys.

    He goes around the rink a couple of times, warming up, zigzagging and turning around 180º to stake backwards too, crossing his legs while moving, jumping to go back to skate forwards, speeding up and stopping every few yards. He lets his muscles warm up and his mind empties, focusing just in the way the speed makes his blood beat inside his veins, the pads adjusting at his body until he’s out of breath.

    There’s still a little bit of tension to release when he finishes the warm up, so he goes to one of the corners of the rink to grab a few pucks, bringing them to the central circle and placing them over the line that divides the rink in two halves. The first hit echoes in the stadium because the puck impacts against the frame of steel, and Ryan hits harder the next two times, sending them straight to the net. He grunts every time he hits the pucks and, when there’s none left, he slides to the goal to get one of them, dodging invisible opponents, controlling the puck and hitting it hard when he reaches the goal back again.

    Ryan realizes Bob has already blow the whistle to let the practice begin when the rest of the team gets on the rink, his ears so blocked with his own heartbeats he didn’t even heard the whistle. Spencer passes near him, sliding forward and gesturing with his head before circling him and stopping by his side, resting his weight on Ryan’s shoulder.

    “Everything all right?” He asks, his look saying so much more than those three simple words.

    “Yeah.” Ryan answers, nodding with his head and getting his attention back to Bob. Everything’s fine, actually, he’s just in a bad mood. And everyone talking about how awesome and fan-freaking-tastic the new guy is doesn’t really help. Pretty much because, or the guy was just a jerk to him, or the rest of the team didn’t care at all. Ryan’s fine with that, he is, they can do and say whatever the fuck they want, he’s not going to say anything about it. But it’s not like he wants to be there if that’s what’s going to be the topic every time they talk. Today the only thing he needs is to burn this bad mood to flames, and to do that he needs hockey, not chattering up. Much less to be reminded that he has a thigh to take care of.

    Spencer looks at him exactly a millisecond before nodding and step in Captain Mode, getting away to place himself in his position. That’s why Spencer is Ryan’s best friend, because, even if it doesn’t look like it, he knows when it’s time to leave the words apart and just let him do what he needs most.

    Ryan slogs his guts out on the rink from the beginning of the practice. Also, today the program is technique and defensive strategy, and that’s his field, so he moves and fights for the puck as if they were playing the very same Stanley Cup right then and there. Bob even tells him to play it safe and don’t force it too much, and Ryan tries, he does, but he has too much adrenalin running through his body, too much frustration, too much anger. His brow is permanently furrowed, and there’s nothing that he does seems enough for him. He’s angry. He’s worried, damn it, because, what if his thigh failed? What if it was more serious than it looked like? What if he missed the season?

    He had already made up his mind to go see the physiotherapist, not just because Bob would break a stick on his head if he wouldn’t, but also because he wants to fix this. He want’s to take it off his head so he can concentrate in what’s really important, to keep playing the season the way he’s doing. To do that, they need the defense intact and impregnable. They need Ryan.

    As if his thigh wanted to agree with him and remind him that, Ryan feels it getting tense, rigid and hard when he falls against the ice with Aaron on top of him. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, probably because it’s still heated up, but he can feel the constant tension on his quadriceps, how it doesn’t goes back to its original state when he stands up, and it’s throbbing, burning like it was on top of a fire pit that’s making it grow hotter bit by bit as he keeps skating. It’s Ryan himself who raises his hand to let Bob know he’s going to get out of the rink, skating to the little door there and stopping right face to face with the coach, who looks at him with a sullen face. Ryan can see the worry in his face even like that.

    “Go see Brendon,” it’s the only thing he says to Ryan, patting his shoulder when this one passes by his side and going back to the practice with the rest to finish the remaining 30 minutes left.

    Ryan grabs his bag and doesn’t even bother taking his skates off, putting on the blade the plastic guards and walking through the tunnel to the locker room. He throws the bag on the benches, right under his locker, and huffs, starting to take off clothes and pads. While he starts to feel his body loosing adrenalin and his muscles relaxing, he feels how his thigh stays as it is, absolutely rigid. He takes all of his clothes and looks at it, watching it swollen and tight, as if he was forcing the muscle to show it off. He’s not, and as the seconds pass, he starts to think he’s going to have a pulled muscled at any moment, a cramp, something. He stretches for a while before getting in the shower and it seems like it gets better, but it’s still too tense and tight, over activated. Ryan really hopes it’s just muscle fatigue. Maybe a little contraction.

    He takes a quick shower, letting the warm water relax him a little and trying not to rest his weight too much because he doesn’t want to force the muscle even more if he can help it. He could have gone directly to see the physio, but he prefers not to hear him complain again about his body odor, and it’s not like he could give Ryan a massage with his muscles just trained from practice, anyway. If Brendon has to check him up, better be when Ryan has cooled down. In every sense, because he’s not in the mood to hear the “I told you so” that he’s sure that smartass of Urie is going to say to him.

    He leaves his things in the locker room and crosses the corridor to the physio room with just his gray boxer briefs and a random t-shirt, dragging his flip-flops on the floor and huffing a couple of times before raising his hand and knocking at the door. The voice that tells him to come in is more solid, less playful than the one that received him last time and, when Ryan does, he can see how the Brendon that welcomes him looks at him from his seat behind the desk, wearing the uniform that Cassie used to wear until her belly decided not to fit in it anymore.

    “Ryan Ross,” Brendon says, as if he were recognizing Ryan’s presence, his look wandering to the computer and typing a couple of things before standing up and pointing at the stretcher. “Would you please get on the stretcher, Mr. Ross, let’s take a look at that leg.” He says, walking closer to Ryan while he smooths his white coat. He hasn’t look at Ryan in the eyes in anytime since he walked through the door and, having in mind that this is the same person who took all of the liberties with him at the very moment of meeting him the first time, that is the most puzzling thing of all that Ryan’s witnessing right now. He raises an eyebrow and walks to the stretcher slowly, totally confused. The day before Brendon was singing Frozen and seemed unaware of the meaning of personal space, and today he calls Ryan “Mr. Ross” and doesn’t look at him in the eyes.

    “Ryan.” He corrects because, really, _mister_? How old does he think Ryan is? He keeps his look right on Brendon the whole time while he gets on the stretcher, as if he was watching an animal not knowing when it can attack, too perplexed to even know what to question about this guy.

    “Ryan.” Brendon repeats, getting closer and getting a little stool from under the stretcher, putting it in front of Ryan and sitting on it. He rubs his hands together to warm them up before putting them on Ryan’s thigh, palpating carefully. “Tell me what you feel.”

    “Besides looking like it wants to break in two for how tense it is…” Ryan says, raising his hand to push his still damp hair out of his face, sighing. “It’s like I’m going to pull a muscle anytime.”

   “Mhmm.” Brendon nods without looking at him, his fingers still examining the zone. “Okay. I need you to lie on your stomach and relax. Cassie told me you hit yourself in the last match,” he explains while he waits for Ryan to do as he’s been told. “Did you do something at home? Did you put some ice on the zone or took something anti-inflammatory?”

   “I used anti-inflammatory spray,” Ryan says, fitting his head in the hole on the stretcher, thinking about how it’s probable that all that sex didn’t help at all either. But he’s not going to talk about that, of course.

   “Fine. Don’t put up resistance now, please.” Brendon explains, taking Ryan’s leg and lifting it up, making him bend his knee 90º. Ryan feels how his hip flexes a little involuntarily, and Brendon makes a noise with his throat, like reassuring something he already knew. “It looks like you could have a little distention. Not too serious, but you should have come earlier.” He says, still holding Ryan’s leg with a hand and exploring the muscles with the other one. “By the way, about the other time,” he adds, clearing his throat a little. “I didn’t know your coach would get like that. If I had known, I would have dragged you myself back here.” Brendon explains, returning Ryan’s leg to its original position and sighing a little. “I should have done it anyway, instead of letting you being a jerk affect me at all. I wasn’t professional, and I apologize about it. You can turn around now. I’m going to use a compression band for now, because you’re not too bad, but it’s not like you can leave it like that. You’re going to use it when you practice. Light practice, not great efforts, and you’re going to come before and after the practice so I can control the recovery. You have to take care of those muscles.”

    Brendon leans back with the stool, rolling with it until he can reach one of the lower drawers, opening it and taking a compression band. He looks at it for a couple of seconds before making an approving noise and rolling back to Ryan, who makes himself confortable face up again on the stretcher. If he was confused about Brendon’s behavior before, now he’s even more, because this adult and mature version of the person that’s in front of him doesn’t fit at all with the one he saw yesterday. Also…

    “I wasn’t a jerk.” Ryan answers, because, what is he talking about? He was the one who said Ryan stank. “In fact, it was you who was so kind to let me know I stank. Which, by the way, I just had practice, of course I stank, but it’s courteous not to say anything about it, you know?” he adds without a lot of emphasis, feeling the embarrassment curling down his stomach, not knowing if it’s for remember it of because even the new guy had heard Bob screaming at him.

    “I’ll leave you to your things. You know. Singing Frozen and stuff.” Brendon says, using the same words Ryan said to him the previous day. “I dare to say you, in fact, were a jerk, especially for someone able to recognize the movie which the song is from.” He says, searching with his fingers on Ryan’s muscle, making circling moves before grabbing the band that he left on the stretcher and passing it under Ryan’s leg. “No one likes to be caught making a fool of himself his first day of work, and be blatantly told on his face. It’s also courteous not to say anything about it, by the way.” He finishes, closing the band, adjusting in around Ryan’s thigh. This one raises an eyebrow, looking at Brendon for a second. It looks like he cared about it, after all, even if it didn’t look like it.

    “I wasn’t mocking you.” Ryan says, because it’s true. He was just trying to joke about it without any mean intention. Brendon can sing Snow-white if he wants to, it’s not Ryan’s problem.

    “Yeah, well.” Brendon stands up, returning the stool to his place under the stretcher and walking back to his desk, sitting behind it and typing on the computer again. “No fibers broken, anything like that, so that’s great for us because you won’t miss any practice. You should come here about forty minutes before doing any effort. If you come to play before practice, you call me and come here before that too. When you get out, you come here again to work on the possible excessive strain and see how it responds to the treatment. The band should prevent it to get worse, but if you force it too much and it does get worse, I get you out of practice for a week, got it?”

    Ryan gets up on the stretcher, sitting on it with his legs hanging, facing the desk where Brendon is paying attention to the computer and whatever that he’s typing in it. He waits to see if Brendon adds something but, after a few seconds of silence, it seems like the conversation is over. So, okay, if that’s how he’s going to take it, Ryan can play that game too. People are not his strong point, anyway, so he spares the effort.

    “Okay.” He says, getting down the stretcher and putting on his flip-flops again. “Thanks, Mr. Urie.” He adds, unable to help himself from using the same distant tone Brendon used with him, starting to walk towards the door to get out of the room. He feels the pressure the band makes around his muscles but, in general, it looks like it’s working, because he feels it a little less tense.

    “I’m not finished.” He hears Brendon’s voice behind his back and, once again, if Ryan’s tone has affected Brendon in any way, it doesn’t show. Ryan turns around to look at him, crossing his arm on his chest. “Have you ever used bands like that one?”

    “Never had to.” Ryan answers, waiting for the use description. It shouldn’t be so difficult, anyway, but he’s not the physio there, so he just looks at Brendon, expecting.

    “Okay, then I’ll change them when you come here. You don’t need to do it yourself, you’re going to come here everyday anyway.” He says, taking a post-it pad and writing something in one of them, sticking it on the edge of the desk. “I don’t remember telling you my name, by the way.” He adds, frowning for a second.

    After spending a total of, at the most, an hour an a half over these two days with Brendon, Ryan can say, officially, that he doesn’t understand this guy. He looked eager to loosing sight of Ryan a minute ago, and now he’s talking to him again conversationally, almost as if he were trying to make him go crazy.

    “You told the others.” Ryan says, shrugging. Brendon looks at him for a second without saying anything, but Ryan can see the way his biting the inside of his lips compulsively.

    “So that’s it for today, then.” Brendon says when he speaks, smiling short with his lips pressed together, nothing compared with the wide smiles and almost absurd from the first day. “You’re free to go, Mr. Ross. See you tomorrow.”

    “It’s Ryan.” He says again because, frivolousness or not, he feels uncomfortable when someone calls him ‘mister’. It makes him feel like he was 80, even more if who calls him that is someone younger than him.

    “It’s Brendon,” replies Brendon sarcastically, wrinkling his nose before turning his look back to the computer and taking a pair of glasses out of the pocket in his coat, starting to type again.

    Ryan nods slowly and turns around again, starting to walk to the door. His hand is on the doorknob and he’s going to open it when he changes his mind because, either he’s stupid or his curiosity is getting out of hand.

    “Are you like that with everyone or just with me?” He asks, turning around once again to look at Brendon. Brendon looks at him too, taking his glasses off and leaving them on the desk with a confused expression.

    “Like that, how, exactly?” He asks looking at Ryan as if he didn’t understand what he’s talking about.

    “I don’t know. Yesterday you were all… smiling and looked like you didn’t care about my personal space,” Ryan explains, feeling more and more stupid with each word he says, because he’s not sure why he’s saying that. “And today you’re like,” he points at Brendon with his hand, looking for a way to explain it and not finding any, “different.”

    Brendon does something with his mouth, like twisting it a bit, but his lips are so prominent it looks like he’s pouting, the expression looking almost childish on his face.

    “Well. Yesterday you made it clear that wasn’t the best way to approach you and, to make it worse, I ended up getting you in trouble. So I guessed the best thing would be to try and be the most professional I can with you.” Brendon explains, shrugging. “It’s also a little bit weird smiling at someone who doesn’t smile back, as you can understand.”

    “It wasn’t your fault.” Ryan says almost too quickly, as if, in some way, he were trying to make Brendon don’t blame himself for it. He can swear there was a moment in his life when he used to think before speaking, but it seemed like that isn’t the case now, because he has no idea why he’s saying this. “I should have followed instructions and I didn’t.” He explains, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck.

    “It’s okay, no problem.” Brendon moves his hand to play it down. “Let’s say we both had instructions to follow and didn’t do it.” He says, resting his hand on the desk and drumming his fingers there for a second before sopping right away, but he looks at Ryan as if he were expecting something from him.

    “Okay. Fine.” Ryan nods, blinking a couple of times. “Are you going to act normal around me again, then?” He asks, even if ‘normal’ it’s not the proper term he would use with Brendon. But it seems that it’s ‘normal’ for Brendon, so. “ _This_ is. Weird.”

    Brendon raises his eyebrows, frowning then and making a face and, well, that at least is the most expressive Brendon’s been in the whole check-up session.

    “I’m not sure if it works that way, you know?” Answers Brendon. “Interactions use to be, you know,” he says, moving a hand on the air between them, “between two or more people. A person interacts with another one, and that one reacts to that, and the previous one reacts to the reaction, and so.” He explains, chewing on his lip again, this time slower but with the same dedication. It looks extremely spongy between his teeth, maybe because he bits them that much. “So, yeah. That.”

    “I interact.” Ryan says, because right when he though he was starting to understand this conversation, he’s lost again. And the effort he’s doing is really big, being he. Usually he gets bored in a few minutes and loses interest, even when he understands the conversation.

    “Yeah. And I react to that interaction.” Brendon says, using his hand again to illustrate the path of the information between them. He laughs a little then, a laugh that looks more like the ones from the beginning, but it doesn’t last long. “So this is the way I’m going to act, and I guess it is ‘normal’ even if it’s not the ‘normal’ you meant.” He says, and it looks like he’s done talking when he shakes hi head a little and twist the corner of his lips. “You’re not the most friendly person ever, did you know that?”

    Ryan opens his mouth to say something, but he discovers he doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t even know why Brendon thinks like that of him. From all the things people have told Ryan about his first impression, probably no one has told him anything like that. He frowns, confused, trying to understand it.

    “Why?” He asks when he doesn’t, and he can hear the voices of the guys on the team filling up the corridor, talking and laughing on their way to the locker room.

    “Well, among other things, you haven’t smiled not even once since I met you. You could have no teeth and I wouldn’t even know.” Brendon explains, grimacing a little, his eyes wandering to Ryan’s mouth, as if suddenly he wanted to know if Ryan had teeth or not. Ryan can’t control the laugh that escapes through his lips, short and breathy, and Brendon opens a smile again, this time a whole one, this time a real one.

    “If I had no teeth I would talk weird, don’t you think?” Ryan says to go along with the joke.

    “Not at all, there are a lot of people who have mastered the art of speaking toothless. They have, like, tongue techniques and stuff, so they can get the right phoneme perfectly.” Brendon answers, and now Ryan gets how those other times Brendon managed to look totally unaffected even when he wasn’t, because right now, if Ryan didn’t know he _has to be_ joking, he would thing Brendon’s talking totally serious.

    “Have you met a lot of those?” He asks amused, the corner of his mouth lifting a little. This time is Brendon who laughs out loud, a laugh that sounds a bit darker, and he brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth and shaking his head a little to say no, clearing his throat and looking back at Ryan.

    “No, not that many, actually. In fact, you’d be the first one to do it so good.” He says, frowning for a second but laughing again. Ryan guesses he’s not the only one who has heard that last sentence come out weird if taken out of context, but it’s not new either that he’s got a dirty mind.

    “I’m going to convince myself that those one you have met were at least more than 80 years old.” Ryan says, raising the palm of his hand facing Brendon. “Please, don’t tell me otherwise. I prefer to live in ignorance.”

    Brendon raises his hands like he’s surrendering, shrugging.

    “I’m just saying hockey is a dangerous game…” He says casually. Ryan laughs again, and his curiosity gets bigger.

    “Have you worked with hockey players before?” He asks. Brendon looks at him for a second, as if he were thinking seriously what to answer, or maybe if answering at all, shaking his head then.

    “Not really. But I’ve fallen face down a lot while skating.” He adds, shrugging and looking at Ryan. “That must count for something.”

    “Hmm. For something, yeah.” Ryan concedes, smiling a little and opening his mouth to say something else. It’s then when someone knocks at the door, though, and Ryan turns around to see Bob opening it carefully and stick his nose in.

     “So?” Bob asks, entering the room and looking Ryan’s thigh.

    “Nothing we can’t fix.” Brendon smiles, looking at Bob. “A very, very little distension. It’s normal that he thought he didn’t need therapy, in fact, the band is just prevention. We’re going to have some sessions anyway, to drain and strengthen a little more.” Brendon says, playing with one of the pens he has on the desk. Ryan looks at him while he’s talking, those words sounding very different that the ones Brendon said to him, but Brendon’s tone is so convincing it’s making him doubt himself. Bob wrinkles his nose, but he nods, reaching with a hand to pat Ryan’s shoulder.

    “Aren’t you taking too much time here, Ross? I though you had fucked up your leg for good and you didn’t want to get out to admit I was right.” Bob jokes, but with a tone in his voice that makes clear he’s not totally joking. Ryan laughs and looks at his coach, stealing a glance at Brendon.

    “I was apologizing for yesterday. For not telling him he had to check me up, you know.” He says, not sure if Bob’s buying everything Brendon has told and not wanting the kid to get in trouble after all. “I took advantage of him being still settling in. I took him off guard.”

    Bob grunts as an answer, patting Ryan’s shoulder harder and saying something about Smith waiting for him in the exit door before getting out of there just like that. When Ryan looks at Brendon again, he looks totally neutral, innocent, even, as if he were unable to say a big fat lie like the one he just say to Bob.

    “You didn’t have to. I mean, he wasn´t going to yell at me again.” Ryan says biting his lips and frowning. “I think. Um. Thanks, anyway.”

    “Why?” Brendon asks as if he didn’t know what he’s talking about. “I didn’t do anything.”

    “Well,” Ryan starts saying, furrowing his brow and pointing back at the door over his shoulder, “that sounded pretty different from what you told to me.”

    “Are you accusing me of lying, Mr. Ross?” Brendon asks, and this time that ‘Mr. Ross’ sounds totally different from the times before. Ryan opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself halfway with a sigh, shaking his head to himself and moving his hand.

    “Forget it.” He says, because he’s sure he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps trying to follow Brendon’s mind games. “See you next day, then.” He finishes, nodding as a goodbye and opening the door of the room, the corridor and the locker room in completely silence. Brendon nods too, raising a hand and moving his fingers goodbye, then taking his glasses from where he left them and putting them on again, turning to the side to face the computer.

 

*

 

    Ryan didn’t meant to having the recovery of his leg constantly in his thoughts as he ends up doing but, after everything that’s happened, it seems that now he’s the one who can’t stop thinking about it. Probably because Spencer and he had been talking about how close the next game is, analyzing rival plays, watching videos, and having those conversation with Spencer means ending up feeling anxious about a game where the have nothing to lose.

    Anyway, the physio sessions are going good. Ryan feels how he gets better even if for now they’ve just been doing some warm up exercises before practices and improving his mobility after them. It’s been just three days and Ryan is already able to keep his hip in place when Brendon does Ely’s test on him, so everything’s going as it should.

    Saying he’s been having the recovery in mind doesn’t mean at all that he’s been thinking about Brendon too. Things are a lot better with him, that’s true, no trace of that weird tension there were between them the first couple of days, when Ryan didn’t even know how to act or how to read Brendon’s behavior. Now they have a cordial relationship, enough to joke about some things, kind of like the relationship Ryan had with Cassie, minus the familiarity of spending years working together. Even so, the good treatment Ryan has with Brendon can’t compete at all with how friendly he seems with some of the guys. With all of them, actually.

    Ryan doesn’t know if maybe some of them already knew Brendon or if they take him home after practice to have a drink and chat about his life, if they stop him to ask him to tell them stories and those bad jokes that everybody seems to laugh at. Ryan’s getting used to Brendon walking with him to practice after de first session, staying there with the guys the minutes before getting on the rink. The same when they get out, Brendon’s there in the locker room waiting for them and using that time to have a laugh with the team while he waits for Ryan to get ready to go back to therapy.

    He doesn’t care, really, Ryan’s not one of those players who turns out to be the life of the party or likes to get all of the attention. That’s more like Derek and Aaron, or even Spencer, if he wanted to take that role. Ryan’s one of those who participate in jokes and sometimes spends the night talking with someone else. And, sometimes, he just observes what happens around him just for fun. Practice is for hockey. Ryan just thinks about hockey there.

    “Dude, you should come to party with us. We can’t wait for another time where we play a match on weekend to take Brendon drink with us.” Says Jeff, making Brendon laugh out loud while some other guys from the team nods, agreeing with him.

    “Besides, we didn’t even give him a proper welcome party.” Derek adds, and Ryan can feel it in the air, it’s going to happen tonight.

    “They’ve opened a new place they say it’s awesome.” Spencer says, joining the conversation casually. “It’s near a restaurant I use to go.” He says, and it’s enough to make the voices starting to fill the locker room, the guys starting to make noise and asking about the hour, directions, shoving Brendon around playfully, who seems delighted with the bustle. Derek suggests going now, as soon as they finish getting their stuff, get home and change.

    “You’re forgetting that I’m not finished working yet.” Brendon points out, and a loud complain noise sounds at unison. “You can go first, give me the direction.”

    “This is your fault, Ross. Why did you fuck up your leg in the first place?” Aaron jokes, slapping Ryan’s head and laughing then. Ryan shrugs and smirks sideways.

    “Maybe if I wouldn’t have to do my job and yours on the ice, I wouldn’t fuck up my leg.” He jokes back, winking at Aaron and laughing at him while the rest of the guys let’s out a joined ‘ooooohhh’ amused by the quick response from Ryan.

    The noise soothes once Ryan gets out of the locker room with Brendon way to therapy, the guys talking about the things they’re going to do or how while they go. It doesn’t last that long, the recovery therapy, to call it some way. Brendon says soon they could get over this and start just doing massages, what means the end of walking up and down the corridor everyday is near.

    When they’re finished, the guys are still there waiting, and Ryan doesn’t think he’s seen the guys waiting for someone to go home ever in all the years he’s been playing hockey. It looks like Brendon is that charismatic, he has that power of attraction.

    “You’re coming to, right, Ry?” Tom asks, smiling before looking at Brendon. “Do you give him permission to come have fun or should he go to bed early tonight?”

    “Maybe I should send him to bed early.” Brendon goes along with the joke. “Although, who says he can’t have fun there too?” He adds, making Tom and everyone else laugh. It’s the first time Brendon has made a dirty joke involving him. Not that Brendon makes too many jokes involving him, of any kind. Ryan looks at him with an eyebrow raised, ready to reply, but Jeff speaks faster.

    “Oh, Ryan has _a lot_ of fun there.” He says, laughing then. “Every weekend at least two times. Not always separately.”

    “I didn’t know you kept a record of every time I fuck, Jeff.” Ryan answers, throwing his arm around Jeff’s neck and giving him a noogie. “Shut up, you idiot.”

    “I do need to keep a record. It’s hard to find a girl you haven’t screwed yet. It’s frustrating.” Answers Jeff, looking at Brendon then. “It doesn’t matter where they’re form. They usually fall for him too when we play out of state. So don’t be surprised if the next one you hook up with has already the Ross Mark.”

    “I’ll keep it in mind.” Says Brendon, looking at Ryan amused and a little surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting something like that at all. Ryan rolls his eyes and shakes his head no to Brendon, downplaying it and punching Jeff in the arm lightly.

    “Why don’t you talk about your sex life and leave the rest of us alone?” He says, because, even if it’s true what he’s saying, Ryan’s not one of those who likes to go bragging around about every girl he sleeps with.

    “To do that he had to have one.” Lets out Spencer, making everybody laugh again, and Ryan makes an exaggerated bow to that, fist bumping Spencer then.

    The conversation follows with a few ‘motherfuckers’ and some other answers in the same tone while they get out of the stadium. Spencer says he has to talk to Linda about it, because they had made plans for dinner and he’s not sure if she’s going to do something later. Ryan receives a confirmation message from Spencer in their chat group when he’s already home, his phone collapsing right away with the rest of the guys cheering about it.

    When he arrives to the place, Spencer’s not there yet, but the rest of the team is with Brendon. Tom says hi the moment he sees Ryan, and he orders another beer for him now that he’s at the bar already, on top of the ones he’s already carrying in his hands, making Ryan a gesture to come and help him. Ryan goes straight there, taking two bottle beers and glasses, following Tom across the room dodging people to get where the rest are. The guys, being there almost the whole team, have gathered a few tall tables together, getting a few more tall stools from the counter.

    If it weren’t because the music it’s still low and Brendon’s voice is that loud when he talks to friends, Ryan wouldn’t have recognize him. He guesses it’s normal; it’s not the same to see somebody at work with their uniform than seeing them in their casual clothes. He himself doesn’t look anything alike with and without his hockey kit. The shock is bigger when you see that someone from wearing his working uniform to see them all primped. It’s just that. That’s why he’s that shocked. Nothing else.

    Brendon’s not sitting in one of the stools because his whole body seems to irradiate energy, as if you had to tie him up to make him seat. He’s reclined over the table, talking with Aaron and laughing loud, moving his hands to explain things. The shirt that he’s wearing is plain simple, red, but it’s short-sleeved and Ryan can take a peak of the tattoos covering one of Brendon’s arms. His black jeans barely stand out in the darkness of the place, but the do when a spotlight goes over them, letting Ryan see how extremely tight they are, so low on the hips he can see some skin flashing between them and the shirt because of how Brendon is placed. He’s resting in just one foot, the other leg flexed, his elbows on the table and his smile wide open, the curve of his lower back and actual curve, and Ryan has to blink a couple of times and place the beers on the table to not risk dropping them.

    It’s not that he hasn’t thought about how Brendon could, easily, look attractive to him. He’s not blind. But admitting someone is attractive is one thing and _that_ is another one totally different. Ryan’s sure that the way the jeans adjust on Brendon’s legs is illegal in more that a state, and he’s not going to talk about how the uniform just doesn’t do justice to Brendon’s butt at all. If it did, Ryan would have noticed it a lot sooner. Not that he’s looking at it right now, of course.

    Generally speaking, Ryan thinks while he takes a long sip of his beer, he has to admit Brendon hides a lot more things under that uniform beside his ability to lie like a rug and getting away with it every time. And, those things, truth be told, are interesting ones to hide. Like how his shirt fits on his shoulders or how the muscles of his arms stand out because of the way he’s leaning in, resting his weight on them. Ryan’s someone who struggles admitting things, mostly if those things have happened right in front of him. And what’s happened right in front of him and he’s missed is that Brendon has a _really nice frame_. And Ryan’s not going to admit it out loud but, fuck, he does.

    “Brendon was telling us before that his family is really open minded.” Tom says casually when Brendon excuses himself and goes to the bar to order some snacks with the beers. The guys are starting to scatter around now that the place is fuller, the only ones still at the table being the ones too shy to dance or the ones that have a girlfriend. Tom is one of the formers. “All because he ordered one of those drinks with an umbrella on it, all colorful and stuff, and we started messing with him about that being a chick drink. Then he said in his family there’s no such thing as gender roles, and they think everyone should be able to do what they want, so that’s why he can enjoy things like chick drinks when the rest is too scare to even try them.” He explains, moving a little to look at Brendon leaning over the bar, talking with the barman. “I don’t know, sometimes he looks a bit, like, effeminate? But the dude is fucking out of his mind, and he does boxing.” He adds, as if that was a good argument against being effeminate. “Also, he let me try his drink and, truth be told, it was delicious.”

    Ryan sips at his beer again, his look wandering towards Brendon at the bar. He never thought about it but, now that Tom mentions it, Ryan can see it in Brendon’s posture, the way he moves, and maybe it’s not such a crazy idea. However, on the other side, nothing he could have assume about Brendon since they met has been something sure, and he’s still something as unpredictable and mysterious to Ryan as the first day, so Ryan wouldn’t bet on Brendon being gay. Maybe bisexual. Maybe neither. In any case, he’s not sure if he wants to know about it or not. Those jeans only already have him drinking like he’s dying of thirst.

    “He’s a curious guy.” Ryan says, just to say something. The possibility of Brendon being gay, bisexual, straight or none of them is still stuck on his mind. “I’m going to get a shot. You want one?”

   Tom makes a face, as if Ryan’s question was obvious. Brendon’s still at the bar when he gets there, a glass of whisky on his hand as he keeps talking with the barman. It looks like the boy can strike up a conversation with anyone. He says hi to Ryan when he sees him coming, the only thing he has said to him since the greeting when Ryan arrived. The music is loud enough now, but he still can catch the characteristic tones of Brendon’s voice.

    “Two tequila shots.” Ryan says to the bartender, looking at Brendon then, drumming his fingers on the bar. “Do you like tequila?” He asks him.

    “I like anything with volume.” Brendon answers with a smile, paying attention to Ryan now that his talking pal has turned around to prepare Ryan’s order.

    “Make it three.” Ryan says to the barman, raising his voice so the guy can hear him but keeping his look on Brendon. “Are you having fun?” He asks while they wait, reaching with his hand to take Brendon’s whisky and bringing it to his lips to take a sip because, why not? He needs to keep his throat hydrated and his beer is already gone. Brendon looks at him with his eyebrows high, his eyes following the glass, but he doesn’t look annoyed. In fact, he looks amused.

    “Yeah, very much.” Brendon answers, taking a look at the bar where the guy has placed three shot glasses to fill them with tequila. “This is a true show, look.” He says, pointing with his head towards the dance floor where Blake is hitting on a brunette unsuccessfully. Ryan laughs when he sees that, making a face and returning his attention to where they are.

    “How much time he’s been trying that?” He asks, grabbing the salt and thanking the barman. He opens his mouth to stick out his tongue and lick his own hand to pour the salt on it, giving it then to Brendon.

    “I don’t know, I know she’s not the first one. Or the last one, for what I can see.” Brendon laughs, taking the saltshaker that Ryan offers and looking at the shot glasses. “Are you gonna take it here?” He asks while he brings his hand to his mouth, licking the back of it. “Aren’t you going to take it away with the person who has asked you for that other one?”

    “It’s rude buying you a drink and let you to drink it alone.” Answers Ryan, shrugging and taking the glass while Brendon looks at him with an eyebrow raised. “Tom doesn’t care if I join him or not.” He smiles, raising his shot as a toast. Brendon laughs and nods, accepting the explanation and taking another of the glasses, raising it and making a gesture with his head before speaking.

    “Are we toasting to something?” He asks, dragging his elbow along the bar when he gets closer to Ryan, enough to clink their glasses without having to reach too long with his arm.

    “To Frozen.” Ryan answers, smirking sideways before clinking his glass with Brendon’s. “And to your inclusion to the team, of course.”

    “To my inclusion to the team.” Brendon repeats sarcastic, making a face and closing his glass with Ryan’s again. “And to fuck you, a little. To that too.” He says before clinking the glasses again with a wide smile showing all of his teeth, taking his hand to his mouth and covering the whole salted zone with his lips, puckering them as he sucks there before drinking the shot all at once.

    Ryan laughs and tries not to be too obvious when his eyes linger on Brendon’s movements while he himself licks the salt from his hand and swallows the golden liquid, leaning his head back and leaving the glass on the bar with a hit before taking the lime to his lips and sucking the juice. Brendon bites his slice of lime, shutting his eyes hard and laughing when part of the juice spills down on of the corners of his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand and leaving the lime inside the shot glass.

    “Next time we toast to ‘fuck me’,” says Ryan, leaning closer to Brendon so he doesn’t have to shout above the music and the noise, “it better be a lot, not a little.” Ha says, winking at Brendon when he leans back and grabbing the shot left to bring it to Tom, taking the salt and a lime slice with his other hand. Brendon blinks for a second, as if that sentence had taken him totally aback, but he doesn’t take long to reset.

    “With that thigh I’m afraid you’re going to have to be okay with just a little, for now.” He answers, smiling sideways and adding: “Eh, look on the bright side. That way, when you’re back on it, you’ll get it eagerly.”

    “That’s your job.” Ryan can feel the alcohol warming up his throat and clouding his reason, loosening his tongue, and it almost looks like, in the change of lights, Brendon’s eyes get bigger. “I mean it’s your job to make that ‘for now’ don’t stretch on too much.” He smiles, making a gesture to the bartender to bring him another beer. Brendon laughs, nodding.

    “You’re lucky I’m really good at my job.” Brendon answers, taking back his whisky from where Ryan left it. He swallows some of it and keeps the glass in his hand. “But hey, just for being you, I’m going to be better even. Give myself to it.” He says, and it seems that the last sentence makes him lose it because he starts to laugh out loud as if he just heard the funniest joke on earth.

    Ryan laughs too, mainly because alcohol does that king of things to your body, and he puts Tom’s shot back on the bar, forgetting about it and grabbing the beer the bartender brings him, blinking away the alcohol effects from his eyes. If his skin feels tight is totally alcohol’s fault too, and not because he’s thinking about all the meanings of Brendon’s sentence.

    “I have no doubt you’ll do it like nobody else.” He says, bringing the bottle to his lips and swallowing, feeling the cold beer going down his throat and making him lick his lips then, looking around at the boys scattered all over the place.

    Brendon looks at him in silence for a second, something changing in his face this time, in his eyes. He blinks when he takes the glass to his lips, changing his posture so he’s not facing Ryan, his eyes scanning the place from top to bottom. He doesn’t take away the glass from his mouth when he lowers it down, but Ryan can see though the glass how Brendon bites his bottom lip compulsively like those other times in his office.

    He opens his mouth a couple of times, both like he was going to say something and stopped himself in the last second. He only looks at Ryan sideways briefly, his looks now fixed in a spot in the background, where the dance floor meets the place with the tables, some guys standing on the little corridor that separate the two zones and that must be the way to the restrooms. Brendon looks at Ryan again, and it probably hasn’t pass more than a minute, but time is more relative than usual in this moment.

    “Weren’t you going to bring that to your friend?” Brendon asks, pointing at the tequila shot with his pinkie. His voice comes out a little chocked, and he raises his drink again to take a sip. Ryan looks at him for a second, not sure about how to read that change in the atmosphere, if feeling disappointed or relieved that one of them has stopped whatever it was building between them. Because, yeah, no, maybe not his best idea.

    He sighs and nods, sipping at his beer and turning to grab the shot again, leaving his beer on the bar for a moment and taking a bill out of his pocket to put it there, making a sign to the bartender.

    “I’m buying his next one too.” He says, pointing at Brendon with his head before taking everything in his hands, smiling at Brendon and nodding as a ‘see you later’ before turning around and start walking to where Tom seems to have forgotten about that shot Ryan owned him. He can feel Brendon’s gaze on him all the way to the tables, but he chooses to ignore the implications of that.

    “Duuude, my shot! Did you go to manufacture the glass or what?” Says Tom when he gets there, taking the shot off his hand along with the salt and the slice of lime, joining the rest of the guys to drink it while Ryan lets himself fall in one of the stools, next to Spencer. The room starts to spin lightly now that he’s sitting. He doesn’t want to know how it’s going to be when he stands up again.

    “Are you friends with the physio, now?” Spencer asks, his looks right on the place he was with Brendon at the bar, now empty, the bartender picking up Brendon’s unfinished drink. Ryan shrugs, drinking.

    “I spend more hours a week with him that I’ve spent with some family members.” Ryan says, laughing and looking at Spencer. “We should be at least buddies.”

    Spencer just shrugs, not saying anything else and letting it go with a grunt. He keeps looking more and more like Bob. Ryan scans the place around him, convincing himself he’s not looking for Brendon, and seeing the brunette Blake was trying to hit on before flirting with another guy he doesn’t know, unable to repress a hiss and a laugh.

    “Blake is gonna be in a bitchy mood tomorrow.” He says, finishing his beer with a long gulp and leaving the bottle on the nearest table.

    “His fault, if he’s as good hitting on girls as he is defending.” Spencer jokes, pointing at the guy with the brunette, proving Spencer has also seen Blake making a fool of himself. “Maybe we should get that guy on the team and dump him too.”

    “And that’s because he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Says Ryan, laughing again and looking at Spencer, furrowing his brow then. “I don’t think you’ve drunk enough, Captain Smith.” Ryan laughs out louds suddenly, his eyes closed and his head lean back. “Dude. Like Pocahontas!”

    Spencer looks at him then with that face he makes that is exactly like his mother’s, the same same face. He looks at Ryan and then looks at his own beer, leaving it on the table and sighing.

    “I guess I drive tonight.”

 

*

 

    When Ryan opens his eyes the next morning, the first thing he feels is the sharping pain in his head and the heaviness of his body, the light coming out through his curtains making everything worse. He grunts as he moves under the covers, pushing them down his waist to uncover his naked chest, stretching his arms at each side of his body on the bed. He feels relief to realize he’s alone in it because, for a moment, he doesn’t remember if he came home with company or not, and he likes to fall asleep once the guest has found their way out of the house. Usually he tried not to bring anyone home, much less staying the night.

    He stretches on the mattress and looks at the window still squinting, seeing the long curtains that face the balcony almost all the way opened, cursing under his breath for forgetting to close them last night when he came home. Not like he got here that fine, he guesses, if the way his head hurts and his body weights is any indication. He stays in bed, blinking his hangover away while he tries to put in order his memories from last night, bringing back some of them he didn’t remember, sighing and closing his eyes again.

    He remembers Tom making a fool of himself trying to dance, Spencer winning a bet about who could drink faster, Aaron or Jeff. He remembers playing some pool and winning, even if he’s not sure against whom. He remembers Brendon laughing out loud when Blake tried to hit on another girl, again unsuccessfully. He remembers…

    His eyes open wide right away and he feels his whole body overactivating, his heart beating fast against his chest, making his headache worse for a moment. Did he do what he thinks he did? Did he flirt openly with his physiotherapist in the middle of a bar in front of his whole team?

    “Oh, fuck.” He grunts, his voice rough and broken due to the lack of use, bringing his hands to his face and rubbing his eyes. What was he thinking? And, more than that, _why?_ Yes, Brendon was attractive and, yes, last night was a total discovery for Ryan, but that’s one thing and a different one is fooling around with him shamelessly in a place where anyone could have seen them. Ryan was careful with these things for a reason, damn it, he could have fuck it up for good.

    He pushes his hair out of his face with a sigh, looking at the bedroom ceiling and thinking about how in a few hours he has to go to his therapy session with Brendon and he doesn’t know how the fuck to act around him after that. He doesn’t even know what were his intentions, that is, was he just simply waiting for Brendon to let himself be seduced? And, wait a minute. Did Brendon flirt back?

    Ryan is very confused, and disappointed with himself for being so careless. Also, now looking at it in the light of day and no alcohol involved, it’s not that much. Yes, Brendon is attractive and Ryan was drunk, alcohol can stimulate those kind of things. But Ryan’s not really attracted to Brendon, it’s not like he wants to fuck him or anything like that. It’s Brendon. They’re barely starting to be cordial with each other now because they had like the worst start Ryan remembers in his whole history of social relationships. So, no, it’s cool, it’s nothing, actually. Ryan can pretend it never happened, because that’s the right thing to do, and stop treating it that seriously. Nothing happened, after all, and that’s what matters. Maybe he didn’t flirt as much as he remembers or Brendon didn’t even notice it. Definitely, the best thing is to let it go.

    He gets up the bed with a grunt, feeling disgusting and still stinking of alcohol, going right to the door that connects his room with the big bathroom. He meets his own reflection in the mirror the moment he opens the door, seeing his messed up and tangled hair, and the zombie face he’s got on. He takes a look at the right, where the semi circular Jacuzzi is, taking a big part of the bathroom, and then to the left, where the shower is hiding behind a half flagstone wall, unable to decide which one to choose. Even the soft light of the bathroom, that doesn’t even light up too much the grey tiles, makes the sharp pain increase inside his temples.

    He ends up choosing the shower because he doesn’t want to fall asleep again and end up getting late to his appointment, what is the most probable thing to happen if he gets on the Jacuzzi. He showers quickly, rubbing his hair and skin until the smell of gel and shampoo gets stuck on his body, getting out feeling so much better than he felt when he woke up.

    When he gets out of the room, black jeans on and a white-and-black striped shirt fitting him well, the dogs are already piled up together in the corridor waiting for him, waggling their tails and their tongues sticking out. Ryan laughs, saying hi to every one of them and trying to make room so he can pass through them to go to the stairs, hearing the dogs walking down behind him. Zeppelin is the biggest of them all, a Siberian Husky with blue eyes that Ryan fell in love with when he was a puppy. Aunt Em is a Basset Hound just a year old, Katherine Hilde Krueger Grossmann, or Hilda, for friends, is a mix between Corgi and Doberman, and Ryan found Rat about three months ago wandering around his street and he doesn’t even know what mix she could come from, just that the damned creature leaves black hairs all over his house.

    His phone buzzes saying someone has sent him a new message, or maybe he just got it. Having in mind how well Ryan gets along with technology, it could even be a birthday greeting from last year.

    It’s not a greeting, actually, and yes, it’s been just sent. The message is from Brendon’s office, saying it won’t be necessary for him to go have a session before practice to do the warm ups and exercises. It says he thinks Ryan’s already recovered enough to start draining just with massages after practice. He says he can go in five hours after he’s finished practice, but it would be good if he went in the next two, if he’s okay with that.

    Ryan frowns, confused because he didn’t know they were already over with the exercises, but he shrugs and presses to reply, looking at Hilda sitting at his feet as if she was waiting for something, probably bits of his breakfast.

    “It seems I’ll be back in shape sooner than I expected.” He says to the dog, smiling before typing ‘ok, I’ll be there when practice is over’, putting his phone in his pocket and getting in the kitchen. He moves to the cabinet where he keeps the medicine, grabbing some painkillers to help him ease how much his head hurts, and drinking almost half bottle of water with it all at once.

    He doesn’t have breakfast; he doesn’t even know what time is it. But, now that he knows he doesn’t have to go to the stadium so soon, he gets the dogs leashes and start calling for them to come to the kitchen, hearing the fast steps against the wooden floor, the youngest puppies slipping sometimes because they’re still not used to the wood. Now that he’s up, a walk to the park won’t hurt him at all.

 

    Brendon’s not in the locker room when Ryan arrives, and it’s not that Ryan’s looking for him, but it stands out that he’s missing when he’s been there practically since he started working here, staying to chat with the team before and after the games. Ryan’s not sure if he should read something in that, if it has something to do about what happened last night or Brendon just decided to pass his hangover in his office with the lights out, or at home.

    The moans and cries from the ones who drank too much last night blend with the laughs and mocking from the ones who aren’t hangover, all of that overshadowed by the constant mid scolding Spencer is giving them for deciding to go parting in the middle of the week without having in mind their practice next day. Ryan wants to call him an hypocrite, because he came to party too, but he shuts his mouth, having in mind that it was Spencer who ended up dragging him home and putting him to bed, taking off just his shoes and pulling the cover over him.

    As it was to be expected, Bob has found out about everything, because Bob is a weird combination between coach and mother, and he has the same powers as the latters. In consequence, he makes them do resistance skating for an hour more, and he doubles the cones in the short zigzag exercise. Everybody complains and no one does, everyone on the rink and no one to Bob, because that only would turn into more exercises for the one who dared to open his mouth. When they’re finished, everybody is exhausted, and the practice game is so light it seems like they’re back being beginners.

    Bob doesn’t say anything when they get back in the locker room, but anyone can see the satisfaction look on his face with every groan of pain that echoes in the room. Brendon’s not there either this time, and maybe it’s because they’ve finished a lot later that they use to, but something tells Ryan he wouldn’t have been there anyways.

    While he takes a shower, Ryan can’t help but think that Brendon’s lack of presence maybe it does have something to do with the last night. The thought makes him nervous, not just because he has to spend the next hour alone with him in a room while he receives a massage, but because this morning he convinced himself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, and Brendon didn’t even notice he was flirting, and now he’s not so sure about it.

    When he gets out of the shower everyone is already picking their things up between complains, most of them too tired and hangover to make full sentences, and even less being too loud, so the locker room is quieter that usual. Ryan sits on the bench with just his boxers on, rubbing his hair with the towel to dry it and prevent it from dripping. It’s the only thing he does because, when he finishes, he lets the towel aside and doesn’t bother touching his hair anymore.

    His teammates are saying goodbye and getting out of there little by little, some of them in groups of three or four, some others alone, saying goodbye to Ryan and pitying him for having to stay longer there until the only one left is him. He puts on the t-shirt with the team logo and takes a look at his phone before putting it inside his bag, doing the same with everything else and getting up the bench. He carries the bag over his shoulder and grabs his jeans and shoes with the other hand, looking around to see if he’s got everything before getting out of the locker room. This way he can finish dressing in Brendon’s office and leave without having to go back to the locker room again.

    When he lifts his hand to knock on the door at the opposite side of the corridor, Ryan really thinks for a moment that Brendon’s not going to open it, that maybe he didn’t came to work today and somebody forgot to tell Ryan. The door opens, however, and Brendon looks up at him a little confused, raising an eyebrow then.

    “You don’t have to knock, it’s always open.” He just says, moving to let Ryan in and walking to one of the cabinets near the stretcher, opening one of the crystal doors and searching through bottles and boxes before taking what it looks like some sort of lotion. “This one smells funny, but it’s the best in the market right now. Place yourself?”

    Ryan doesn’t say anything, but he moves. He leaves his bag there at the side, placing his jeans on top and his shoes aside, going to the stretcher then and getting on it, his legs stretched out and his back resting on it too. He looks at Brendon a little bit anxious, not knowing what to wait for or if Brendon’s going to say anything about last night in any moment, but it looks like Brendon’s behaving like nothing happened. And that’s good, that’s in fact what Ryan wanted to do, so it’s better than good.

    “Have you been here the whole time?” Ryan asks, trying to use a normal, relaxed tone, the one he always uses.

    “More less. I’ve been here, but in Patrick’s office. He’s been giving us a speech to Elisa and me about how Bob wanted to teach you guys a lesson about going to party in the middle of the week, so he banned us from making anything to relieve the punishment. I can’t give discharging massages; Patrick won’t give you any drug, and Elisa can’t provide any counseling.” He says as he laughs, placing himself near the injured muscle. “It seems like you have some visualization exercises with her that are awesome. One day you have to tell me how that goes. You can lie further if you want; I just have to lower the stretcher for you. I’m sure you’re totally worn out after that practice.”

    “That wasn’t practice, that was torture.” Ryan says dramatically, sighing and letting his head fall against the back of the stretcher with his eyes closed. “I can’t even _walk_. I just drag myself over.” He laughs, being conscious of how his body weights more than usual. “The stretcher’s good, don’t worry.”

    “I can do a full one on you, if you want. Bob is a bit of an asshole, if you excuse me.” Says Brendon while he places his hands over Ryan’s knee, starting to go up to cover the whole thigh with the lotion. “I mean, I’m okay with him wanting to give you a lesson and everything, but if you guys can’t come here later, then it’s me who’s going to have to deal with fucked up contractures for not treating the muscle when I had to.” He explains, his fingers moving expertly over the group of muscle conforming Ryan’s thigh. “That’s why I say it, now that you’re here. I would have offered to any of the guys, it’s not… But yeah, you’re here.” He continues, frowning when the sentence come out unconnected, fixing his look on how his hands work every zone without paying attention to anything else.

    Ryan lasts a few seconds before answering, because he starts to feel his whole body relaxing even if it’s just his thigh the place Brendon’s working on and there are some painful spots. It’s a sharp pain, that makes his muscle tense up to defend itself against the aggression sometimes, but the remaining feeling it’s so good, just the way the muscle responds to the massage and relaxes. It lets the blood flow and the feeling gets even better.

    “I don’t think I can afford refusing that offer.” Ryan says, opening his eyes to smile at Brendon, feeling his muscle spasm when the fingers press on an specific spot, a sharp painful sensation crossing his quadriceps from the inside, making him twist his face.

    “There, right?” Brendon asks, but he doesn’t wait for Ryan to answer. He uses two fingers to place them on that spot, starting to make short slow movements back and forth, his other hand sliding to his inner thigh to keep massaging, making that relief counteract with the pain he’s feeling. “Don’t tense up.”

    Ryan nods, but it’s easier saying it than doing it because it’s like his muscles are alive and do as they please, so Ryan doesn’t even know when he’s tensing up all over his body, not just his thigh, like his arms or his back. He takes a deep breath and tries to ease the tension, focusing instead in how Brendon’s making him shiver with the hand that’s not torturing him. It doesn’t take long to realize he’s feeling something else, and then he tenses up all over again, because the massage is starting to feel _too good_ to be confortable.

    His brain is ringing warning bells and he tightens his jaw, shifting his focus back to the painful feeling, the really painful feeling, because pain doesn’t feel good and if it doesn’t feel good he definitely shouldn’t be feeling that warm sensation in his lower belly, nor his crotch getting interested in what’s happening. He even balls his hands into fists, trying to get away of that feeling, get away of the places his body is going, because he can’t go there right now, he can’t believe his own system is betraying him this way.

    Brendon keeps doing his job, changing techniques, starting to knead the thigh in different directions, his fingers sneaking in all the right places, massaging while he hums melodies sometimes, frowning a couple of times and raising up his look to Ryan.

    “It’s impossible this hurts too. I need you to relax, Ryan.” He explains without stopping his hands and fingers over the muscles, traveling from side to side. “Okay, tell me, how was practice? What kind of torture Bob did to you?” He asks, trying to start a conversation, probably to make him stop thinking about what it’s making him tense and let him work.

    “Um. Well.” Ryan tries to shift his attention, focusing on making up the words, but he feels the right moment when he looses all control of his body and, as his muscles relax, he builds up tension in _another_ place, making him grow hard inside his boxers. His eyes open wide and he starts to panic right there, feeling all of the blood that’s not travelling fast to his cock going up to his cheeks, making his face feel on fire. And there’s no way he can hide it, he’s just on his underwear, and Brendon’s just _there_ , his hands barely inches away from the problem. Ryan just wants for the earth to open under the stretcher and swallow him whole. “Oh, shit. Um. I’m sorry. I don’t know, uh. I mean, it’s.” His first instinct is to cover up, pulling down the hem of his shirt, do whatever it takes to hide his erection as much as he can, but it’s not an easy task. And, right then and there, Ryan hates his body with all his might.

    Brendon frowns for a second, as if he didn’t know what Ryan’s talking about. His expression last just the time he takes to look away from Ryan’s face and to the place Ryan’s trying to cover with his hands. Brendon’s eyes grow huge, and it’s almost a comical face, if it weren’t for how the situation is not funny at all. Ryan can see how Brendon opens up his mouth to say something, and then he closes it, swallowing and licking his lips, opening it again, this time making the words come out.

    “Turn around. I’m going to do it from behind.” He says a little chocked up and Ryan’s not sure if the wave of heat that suddenly flood Brendon’s cheeks is because what he just saw of because how easy to misunderstand is that sentence he just said. For Ryan, at least, the sentence hasn’t contributed to ease the problem.

    He does as he’s been told right away, because right now it’s his best way out of this situation, turning around so Brendon can’t see how hard he is, the thin layer of clothe making it too obvious, and Ryan doesn’t have to look Brendon face to face, burying his on the stretcher and dying of embarrassment in peace. He’s sure he hasn’t feel this way probably since he was fourteen and his literature teacher found him in the broom closet feeling up Joanne Eves tits. In fact, he thinks even back there he kept his dignity better than now, which is not that crazy having in mind that he just got a boner because the guy he was flirting with not even 24 hours ago is massaging his thigh. A guy Ryan doesn’t even know if he’s gay or not, or what does he think about it, who could kick him out of his office right now if he though that another guy was hard for him.

    Ryan can feel the beat of his heart in his hears, and the blush on his cheeks doesn’t seem to ease down in any near future. He curses his body and his luck and everything he can think of right now while he tries desperately to imagine the grossest things ever to make his boner disappear.

    “Um. I have no idea how, I mean.” He tries to explain himself, swallowing hard because he feels his throat dry. “This never happened before, I don’t know.” Ryan opens his eyes wider when he realizes that he’s not making it better. “I mean, uh.”

    “Relax.” Brendon interrupts him, and his voice has no inflection, nothing that tells Ryan should do otherwise. Brendon’s hands go back to his thigh, keeping with the massage as if he just asked Ryan to turn around because that was the protocol. “It happens more that one could think. It’s nothing, really. I’m not going to think bad of you, that it’s because of me or anything like that.” He says, letting out a laugh then. “I’m not gonna think I got you horny, so relax.” He says casually, massaging again. “You don’t know the countless times I’ve seen something like that during my practices at college, and it doesn’t mean anything. Your Casanova reputation is safe with me.”

    Ryan lets out a breathy laugh, more like relief than anything else, when he hears Brendon’s words, but he frowns anyway. He doesn’t care about his Casanova reputation usually, even less right now. That’s not what worries him, actually. But Brendon’s tone is light, casual, and that makes him believe in his words, believe that this things happens, that it’s normal.

    However, thinking about the words Brendon had used, he realizes something. ‘I’m not going to think bad of you’, he said, as if getting a boner for a guy was wrong. That probably meant Brendon wasn’t gay, as Ryan had wondered the night before, no even bisexual. So now Ryan is not sure if he feels more embarrassed for getting an spontaneous erection right there of because of how the night before he was flirting with a guy who doesn’t even play for his team. He really hopes Brendon didn’t notice what was going on, the only thing he needed was, apart for making a fool of himself that way, for Brendon to go telling about it.

    “That’s it.” Ryan laughs, trying to joke about it. “You know. It was totally spontaneous. I don’t even know how that happened, or why.”

    “Well, look at it on the positive side. It would’ve been more uncomfortable if I were Cassie.” Brendon jokes, laughing and playing it down.He shifts to the other thigh, starting to do a completely different massage. “I guess you didn’t get lucky last night. Though I swear I saw more than a couple of girls with their eyes on you. Maybe Tom’s right and you’re a little oblivious after all.”

    “Tom said that?” Ryan asks, thanking the change of subject so he doesn’t have to think if it really would’ve been more uncomfortable with Cassie. “Why am I the item of gossip?”

    “Are you?” Brendon asks back, laughing and making the atmosphere feel lighter. “He just talked about you last night, actually, following the subject of how you probably had slept with half of the girls there. Then he said the other half would sleep with you too, only you were too oblivious to get it. I don’t know, we had to talk about something, and Tom just seems to know about girls and hockey. And, if you can keep me a secret, I don’t know that much about hockey.”

    “You do about girls?” Ryan asks, raising his head from the stretcher to look at him with a smirk. He was just going to laugh about what Tom had said and telling Brendon it wasn’t like that at all, but that last sentence has catch his attention for how Brendon just mentioned hockey, and this is the best opportunity to stop being in doubt about Brendon. He looks back at Ryan and laughs out loud, but he makes a face when he realizes that Ryan’s waiting for an answer.

    “Does anyone really know that much about girls? Girls are complicated.” He says casually, getting his look away from Ryan and getting back to his work. “I bet not even they understand themselves.” He adds, in what sounds like something you could read from a paper from the 90’s about the difference between men and women.

    “You know the basic, at least.” Ryan laughs, but he doesn’t miss how Brendon’s answer is not really answer to what he wants to know. He lets it pass anyway, because the atmosphere is absolutely lighter now and it doesn’t seem like what happened last night is conditioning Brendon’s behavior with him, so he won’t press the subject just out of curiosity. “And it’s not like that, really. But I admit sometimes I don’t get if someone is trying to hit on me or not. The guys are just exaggerating.”

    Brendon doesn’t say anything, just makes an approval noise with his throat and keeps doing what he’s doing, slowing it down when his fingers reach too high on Ryan’s thigh or if they go to Ryan’s inner thigh, focusing on keeping the massage on the surface more than anything.

    “Well I say it’s always better to be oblivious than thinking someone is hitting on you when they’re not, so you don’t end up falling flat on your face.” Brendon speaks again, keeping up with the conversation while he takes his hands off where they were. “Take off your shirt.” He asks placing his hands on Ryan’s lower back. Ryan rests his weight on his elbows so he can pull the shirt off him grabbing the collar. He tries not to think about how now he’s completely naked except for his boxer, in front of a guy who just gave him a boner. Especially now that said boner is starting to fade.

    “It’s just, sometimes, I keep thinking girls are waiting for you to be the one to step up and ask them. But nowadays it’s not always like that, so. Yeah, I don’t know.” He says, keeping with the topic so he doesn’t think about how what Brendon just described was his case last night. “Like you said, girls are complicated.” Guys are not. Or, at least, they didn’t use to be for Ryan. Until Brendon. Not that Ryan really wants to try anything with Brendon, but it’s complicated even just knowing for sure if they’re in the same boat _in case_ he wanted to try something. He doesn’t.

    “I always thought it would be easier for you sports stars to flirt. That the mere mortals problems didn’t affect you.” Brendon jokes, or maybe he’s not joking, but he use a light tone while he starts sliding his hands up Ryan’s back, smooth and with no rush, barely pressing down. “Tell me if there’s any place you want me to start with. This is not therapeutic, so you choose.”

    “Hmm. The whole back is good. Also my arms.” Says Ryan because, given the choice, he’s going to ask for anything he needs. “I guess it’s easier, yeah. Just if you’re counting the people that likes you just because you’re a famous sport player. But the rest, those who doesn’t know who you are, you have to work for it like everybody else. So it depends if you don’t mind the reason why someone chooses to be with you.”

    “Well, I don’t think you have to work that much for the rest, either.” Brendon answers, keeping up with the conversation while he starts massaging deeper, going each side of Ryan’s spine, pressing and releasing, kneading the muscles and rolling the skin at his path. Ryan closes his eyes and sighs, enjoying the sensation. “I mean people who don’t know who you are are still not blind, except for people who _are_ blind. And the most of them still look for a hot body, if they want one night stand. Sport player or not, I don’t think you have to work for it that much for someone to be attracted to you.”

    Ryan stays in silence for a moment, trying to decide if Brendon just told him he’s hot or he’s just misunderstanding his words for any of his brain twisted reasons. He can’t find another possible explanation and, okay, he’s not the first guy telling Ryan he’s hot, but straight, probably the second one. And Ryan’s sure the first one was joking. To make it worse, the massage is making him feel limp and wanting to fall asleep right there, as if he were stoned and on the clouds, so the words don’t come out easy.

    “I think I never hit someone blind.” He says because when he doesn’t know what to say, he says stupid things. “To be honest, sometimes I don’t even have it in mind. It just happens. Guys like to joke about it, but I’m not one of those who kiss and tell.”

    “I wouldn’t judge you. I think everybody should do whatever they want with their sex life, you know?” Answers Brendon, starting with one of Ryan’s arms. That makes him think about what Tom said about Brendon’s family being open minded and all that. Maybe Ryan could start talking about guys right now and Brendon wouldn’t mind, even if he’s straight. “This is the one that makes all the job, right? It’s like trying to shape a brick.” He laughs, joking. Ryan laughs too and makes an affirmative sound, feeling the hair on his nape stand on end when Brendon massages the right spot. Brendon gets deeper, as if he had notice that’s the spot that makes Ryan shiver and wanted to take advantage of it. “Right there?” He asks with a smile on his voice, even if he lowers it a little bit.

    Ryan just makes an affirmative sound with his throat, his eyes closed again and feeling in trance because of the sensations. It’s been centuries since someone did a non-therapeutic massage to him, and he didn’t remember how good it felt, in a way that makes your mouth open and even drool without noticing it. Ryan could really fall asleep like a baby right there, not even changing his posture on the stretcher. Brendon keeps going, this time up his shoulder, paying attention to it for a few minutes and ending up his way to the neck, slipping his fingers through Ryan’s still damp hair and pressing with his thumbs. Ryan can’t help the sound that comes out of his mouth, like a thunder in his chest.

    “You sport players never pay proper attention to your neck. You don’t even know the tension this muscles go through.” He explains while he starts going across them with his fingers, massaging soft but intense, all over the nape and the sides of his neck, going up to his scalp sometimes. “Feel the tension? Feel how it melts away?”

    “I feel it.” Ryan nods, his voice coming up sleepy, making a satisfied noise. “You’re welcome to pay proper attention to it all the time you want.” He mutters. Brendon laughs out of his chest, keeping the massage with dedication, working inch by inch, his fingers traveling everywhere, making patterns that doesn’t feel like an official massage, but Ryan couldn’t care less.

    “Don’t fall asleep.” Brendon jokes when he finally takes his hands off Ryan’s neck, starting with the other arm and massaging it the same way he did with his twin.

    “Easier said than done.” Ryan mutters, smiling at nothing with his eyes closed and frowning a little when he remembers something. “Weren’t you not allowed to do this today?”

    “As I said before, I think Bob is kind of an asshole.” Brendon answers, the smile in his voice. “Patrick and he seem really good friends, and probably he’ll follow Bob’s rules to the letter, but… Well, I’m not going to tell him and, if you don’t do it either, it can be our secret.”

    “Not a word.” Ryan agrees because, seriously, if it were for him, he would take Brendon home to make him do this every damn night till he fell asleep. “And Bob’s not so bad, actually. He’s just a discipline freak.”

    “I can stop right now if you want.” Brendon jokes, stopping his hands right where they are. “I wouldn’t like to be the one who interferes with Bob’s discipline.”

    “No, no, no.” Ryan answers quickly, making a face then because he just sounded like a spoiled child. “I’m disciplined. I don’t need his punishments, you can go on.”

    “That’s what I thought.” Brendon laughs, getting back to the massage in Ryan’s arm, finishing the whole route. “In theory, I still need to do it in your other thigh, front face. You can turn around again to let me finish it or we can leave it like that.” Brendon says, the lightness of the atmosphere fading a little, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. Ryan doesn’t even think about it, he turns around now relaxed and knowing his crotch is back to his normal size, smiling at Brendon and making a face as an answer.

    Brendon laughs through his nose and moves to get closer to that leg at the other side of the stretcher, rubbing his hands together and placing them on Ryan’s thigh, starting to make circles with his fingers, going up and down, pressing with the thumbs.

    “Open your legs a little more.” He asks with his eyes fixed on his own fingers, looking briefly at Ryan’s face before lowering down his look again. “I’m going to go up, close to your groin. If you’re uncomfortable any moment while I work your inner thigh, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

    “Okay.” Ryan says before swallowing, opening his legs more and keeping his look on the ceiling for now. He’s not sure about the probabilities of his body deciding to betray him again, but he just breathes and focuses on the massage, closing his eyes and letting his mind as empty as possible.

    Brendon massages him expertly and precisely, but Ryan can feel how his movements are slower when he gets closer to a dangerous zone, when his fingers brush against the fabric of his underwear, when he gets deep down Ryan’s inner thigh, as if he were giving Ryan time to ask him to stop. Ryan can feel his body tense up in those moments, not because he’s uncomfortable, but the other way around. His body decides to behave, anyway, so Ryan controls his breathing and lets Brendon do his job, feeling his skin stand up sometimes and shivering when Brendon touches some places, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling and Brendon’s face, watching him chew on his bottom lip almost with the same dedication he’s using with Ryan.

    “Well, I think,” Brendon clears his throat, using one of his hands to place it on the other leg, touching both of them from knee to hip, maybe checking the differences between the both of them, Ryan wouldn’t know. “Yeah. I think we’re done.” He says, getting his hands away from Ryan almost immediately, rubbing them together and cracking his knuckles. “How do you feel?”

    “New.” Ryan says standing up and sitting on the stretcher, letting his legs falling while he takes his shirt to put it on, sighing. “It’s like my body weights a lot less, or like I had lost something heavy I didn’t know I was carrying.” He says, laughing and getting up to take his jeans, putting them on with slow movements, button them up and looking at Brendon. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, so…”

    “Maybe I just…” Brendon starts to say, but he stops himself, letting out a laugh and bringing a hand to his face, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of it. “Nothing. It really is my job. So it’s nothing.”

    Ryan looks at him for a moment, longer than is probably polite, really intrigued with what Brendon were going to say and didn’t do it. In the end, he just nods and looks back at his shoes, starting to put them on

    “Now I owe you one.” He says, tying the lace of his right shoe and starting with the left one. “Do you know how to skate?” He asks; looking up to him while hi finishes. Brendon raises an eyebrow, as if he weren’t expecting that question.

    “You owe me nothing, I told you it’s my job.” He answers, twisting his lips a little before opening a smile. “But yes, I do know how to skate. Why?”

    “Well.” Ryan says standing up, shrugging before carrying his bag over one of his shoulders. “Skating is my job. But if you already know how to skate, I can’t teach you. It’s okay, I’ll think of something.” He smiles, going to the door, pulling at the doorknob open it. Brendon wrinkles his nose in a somehow disappointed face, as if he was upset for ruining Ryan’s offer. Or maybe that’s just how it looks like, because he doesn’t say anything about it.

    “See you tomorrow after practice, then. I hope Bob doesn’t get too carried away with the discipline this time.”

    Ryan nods, not sure about why it’s feeling hard to get out of the office.

    “Not more than usually, I guess.” He says, waving his hand goodbye and walking through the door, stopping there and turning around again. “And really, thanks. Your job is my thigh. You could have used the rest of your time to do anything else, so. Yeah, that.” He finishes, smiling at him again before getting out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

 

 

 


	3. One Timer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your kudos and comments. They mean the world to us. I'd like to let you know that the story is already finished in spanish, we're just taking our time to translate it, so it'll be updated weekly.

 

3.

 

    After a week of massages only, Ryan starts to feel how was to play without that extra load on his thigh. He guesses it’s normal, that he didn’t notice before because he was used to play just like that, but now it’s like he has a brand new leg. Even Bob has praised him about how good his latest practices are, and he knows this is how he should keep doing it if he wants to be good enough the next game. Brendon says he’s not totally recovered, so he will have to do an especial session right before the match so he doesn’t ruin everything they’ve been working on. ‘You wouldn’t like to keep coming here for another month, would you?’ Brendon had asked him. Ryan chose not to answer.

    Thank God, the incident from the first session doesn’t happen again, and Ryan feels more comfortable now in every session he has with Brendon, although he has to admit he’s not sure if the effect Brendon’s hands have over his body is the same with anybody or it’s just Ryan. He knows that didn’t happen with Cassie, but maybe it’s just the way Brendon massages, the way he works the muscles. Ryan wants to think it’s just that because if it’s not, he doesn’t know what could it be.

    The thing is, the atmosphere now is relaxed and friendly, they’re pass the cordiality from the beginning and now they’re more like buddies. Brendon’s funny and he always manage to find something to talk about during the sessions, even if Ryan couldn’t help but notice how he talks and talks but doesn’t really say anything. It’s cool; Ryan respects that because he’s not used to talk about his private life either, but that makes him wonder more and more things about his physiotherapist. So that curiosity and the fact that he doesn’t know what to expect from Brendon are still there, as fresh as the first day he found him singing Frozen.

    It’s true that, as much as the relationship has improved (something not that difficult having in mind how they started), they’ve never crossed the line they crossed that time at the party. In fact, it’s like that talkative and frisky Brendon had totally disappeared. Their conversations, their jokes, anything Brendon talks about with Ryan stays in a strictly neutral, safe field, something you could talk about with your whole family in the thanksgiving dinner. No politics, no religion, no sex. And that’s all Brendon, of course. He doesn’t mind if Ryan wants to talk about those things, Ryan could probably talk about how last night he decided to try every position in the Kamasutra and Brendon would just nod and make some joke about it. Now, the moment the attention shifts towards him, Brendon dodges Ryan in such a professional way he’s starting to think about having Derek talk to him so Brendon can teach him those techniques to apply on the rink.

    The most curious, or puzzling thing, whatever you call it, is that Brendon doesn’t seems to be like that with the rest of the team. When one of the boys asks him about something personal, Brendon answers without shame, sometimes giving details, explaining things no one asked for. However, Ryan has noticed, and he notices more and more, that Brendon’s answers seems prefabricated and, more than once, Ryan noticed too how some details, little ones, change from one time to another. Maybe it is the name of a city, or the name of a person, the season or the weather. They are meaningless details that, if you’re not paying attention, you would forget ten minutes later. Ryan doesn’t want to think about why he does remember them.

    The next game they play is not home, so the whole team, the medical assistance too, travels with them. The St. Louis Blues are not one of the strongest teams they compete with, but they’ve managed to stay unbeaten since the beginning of the season, just like them, and Ryan likes to think you shouldn’t underestimate a team just for what they did in previous seasons, so they have to face them with the same spirit as if they were facing any of the others. At this point of the season there’s nothing established yet, even if there are always favorites and statistics, you never know what can happen, and nobody is sure for the playoffs until, practically, the last quarter of the regular season.

    Ryan likes the preferential treatment they get when it means he has a hotel room all for himself. It’s one of the few things he really appreciate of being one of the best players of the team, even if he consider himself as indispensable as anyone. The rest of “benefits” he gets out of being who he is are not that necessary at all if you ask him. However, Ryan likes to follow some specific concentration techniques the days before a match, so having a private room makes that a lot easier to do. Those techniques include a workout routine in the gym that he won’t be able to fully complete due to the state of his thigh, but he’ll do what he can with his upper body.

    That’s why, the day before the game, Ryan wakes up first hour in the morning and goes down for breakfast when the hotel is still practically in silence, putting on his headphones with music and the team sweats with his credential hanging from his neck. An orange juice, fruit salad and some toast later, he gets his way to the hotel gym, the towel he uses over his shoulders and his bottle of water under his arm.

    Maybe it’s because he’s wearing his headphones or it’s just his distracted nature, but he only realizes he’s about to crash into someone when he’s almost over them. Ryan’s almost 6 inches taller than Patrick, but that doesn’t stop him for stepping back immediately and apologize when he sees it’s the doctor whom he almost knock over. Patrick looks at him twisting his mouth a bit, smothering his coat with his hands (and Ryan’s not sure if he has ever seen him without the white coat or that man with the stethoscope around his neck), and pushing up his glasses over the brick of his nose with a finger.

    “Good morning, Ryan.” The doctor says, looking at Ryan’s clothes for a moment before adding. “Are you going to the gym?”

    “Yes.” Answers Ryan, lowering down his headphones to let them hanging around his neck. “Why are you up so early?” He asks, genuinely interested because at this time in the morning not even some of his teammates are up yet.

    “The medical team has a meeting in like…” Patrick frowns, looking at his watch and making a face. “Oh. Two hours. Not bad. I’m still jetlagged, it’s like we’re still in Chicago. But, well, it’s not like I could go back to bed.” Says Patrick, shrugging a little. He’s about to walk away when he stops, making a face and sighing. “You said you’re going to the gym, right? If Brendon’s there, can you tell him to come right away to the meeting room? Don’t tell him the meeting is in two hours. He deserves it, for staying up whole the night like…” Patrick doesn’t finish his sentence because he’s one of those people whom you’ll never hear swearing unless you’re a close friend. Some of the guys state they’ve heard him argue with Bob and they say it’s not a pretty thing to witness.

    Ryan really, really wants to ask him what did Brendon do the whole night and why does he deserve to be punished. In fact, he wants to know why would be Brendon at the gym if he’s been the whole night awake doing something. But he knows Patrick won’t answer him, mostly because what Brendon does or doesn’t do at night it’s none of his business. Or at any time, actually. So he just nods and tells Patrick he’ll do it, saying goodbye and keeping his way up to the gym, putting his headphones back in place.

    He doesn’t need to open the gym door to know there are people inside, and that’s something weird, due to how early it is. People don’t use to decide the best thing to do right after they wake up is going to the gym. However, what Ryan can hear from the outside doesn’t seem like people who just wake up. At least Ryan thinks no one in their right minds decide that the best thing to do right after getting out of bed is blasting Gloria Gaynor while working out.

    When he opens the door he can hear whistling and cheering go on with the music, and Ryan just needs to take a few steps into the room to see why. Brendon’s there, just like Patrick said, with an unlikely energy for someone who, supposedly, had a sleepless night. He’s dancing to the music, moving his body, head, arms, shaking like there’s no tomorrow while he laughs out loud and runs.

    He runs in a running machine, and in a pretty high speed, having in mind that what he’s wearing on his feet it’s totally inappropriate for running. He’s not alone, and Ryan guesses that’s a point in his favor, because that means Brendon’s not completely out of his mind. Or maybe not, maybe it means the complete opposite. Brendon moves his head to say hi when Ryan gets closer, a huge wide smile on his face, his hands holding himself on the running machine because it’s normal he needs that extra support with the pace he’s keeping.

    “You’re… running in high heels.” Ryan doesn’t ask, mainly because he’s not blind and he can see clearly that Brendon is running in high heels. He just needs to say it just to be sure that what he’s seeing it’s really happening and he’s not hallucinating.

    “God, you’re observant.” Brendon answers with his breath agitated, panting between words. He uses a mocking tone, not even looking at Ryan, but with one of those smiles of him that makes you forget even if he questions the honor of your own mother. Not Ryan, of course, but the rest of the world does, or so it seems.

    “Patrick wants to see you. He says you guys have a meeting in… Sorry, I have to ask.” Ryan stops himself, frowning while he keeps watching Brendon running. It’s almost hypnotic, the way his muscles tense with every step but his hips roll so smooth at the same time. It would be even more hypnotic if Ryan’s brain weren’t stuck on the fact that he’s running _in heels_. “Why? Why are you running in high heels?”

    This time Brendon burst into laughter, clean and fresh, and a little out of breath ~~e~~ , but it sounds good anyway. He doesn’t stop running, but he holds onto the machine to move his head and look directly at Ryan this time. His hair is stuck on his forehead, the sweat starting to make little beads on the skin, and Ryan doesn’t know if it’s because Brendon’s been running for too long or if running in heels is that exhausting. Not that Ryan wants to know it for himself, anyway, he’s not interested in wearing heels. And maybe his eyes get stuck in the curve of Brendon’s jaw, how it shines with sweat, thinking vaguely about how good his teeth would fit right there. Or not, because Ryan’s not interested in that. He’s not interested at all.

    “Turn around and look. Look at those calves.” Brendon pants, making a quick gesture with his head, urging Ryan to go around and look at him from behind.

    And Ryan wants to do that, look at Brendon’s calves when he takes a few steps to stand behind the running machine, he really wants to, because he wants to understand how this makes sense at all and what planet did Brendon escaped from. It’s difficult, though, because he gets distracted looking at _another_ couple of muscles. Ryan knows his mouth is open, but the order of closing it up gets lost at some point between his brain and his jaw.

    It’s not his fault, really, it’s just that since that night at the bar Ryan hasn’t been able to get that image out of his head. Besides, he’s just looking, because he can’t _not_ look. The problem is the shorts Brendon’s wearing are too low on his hips, and too high on his thighs, and the scandalous red of the fabric seems to highlight the way it fits Brendon’s ass. And it wouldn’t be a problem if Brendon had an average ass, or maybe rather average, or even a pretty good one. But no, Brendon has one of those butts, the one you can’t take your eyes off of it, the one you need to have to be born with that specific genes or it’s impossible to get in your fucking life. One of those. Brendon has one of those butts and Ryan thought he was doing a pretty good job not thinking about it until Brendon decided to serve it to him like that, on a silver platter.

    To make it worse, the white t-shit he’s wearing sticks on his skin due to the sweat, turning almost transparent, and it rolls up his hips a little, enough for Ryan to see two perfect dimples at the bottom of his back. And, okay, Ryan has to admit that maybe, just maybe, he was lying to himself when he said he wasn’t interested in Brendon in that way. For a moment, his imagination decides to kindly show him an excessively graphic image of a combination between those dimples and Ryan’s tongue, and Ryan has to shake his head and clear his throat, trying to get rid of it.

    He decides that now it’s time to close his mouth right when he feels his own tongue caress his lips, so he blinks a couple of times before closing his eyes and closing his mouth, taking his tongue back inside to where it should be to stop thinking about sticking it into Brendon. His tongue. Whatever. It would be also good if he could disconnect his brain. It’s too early for this and he’s short-circuiting.

    “This can’t be healthy.” Ryan murmurs before turning back to reality and realizing he’s still in the middle of the gym, with Brendon right in front of him. And a few more guys too. “I mean. I thought wearing heels was bad for you. And you’re a physio. You should know that better than anyone.” He’s fast to add, looking away from the dangerous zone and bringing his eyes back to Brendon with his brow furrowed. If his voice sounds offended it’s not because of Brendon’s health precisely, but he hopes Brendon thinks so.

    “It was a bet.” Brendon laughs, shaking his head while the machine stops, lowering his pace until he stops running. “My friend here and his buddies have really bad ideas.” He says, pointing at the guy beside him with his head, someone Ryan’s sure Brendon didn’t know yesterday, and who now is just laughing and looking at them. “Anyway, you have to admit I rock them.” Brendon adds with a smirk, stepping down the machine and wiping his sweat out of his face with his forearm, smiling big when he turns around and looks at Ryan. “And they make my ass look amazing. Tell Patrick I haven’t forgot about the meeting. I’ll be there in a minute, I just need to take a quick shower, okay?”

    Ryan nods while he watches Brendon go because he can’t do anything else, mostly because he hasn’t heard a word Brendon has said after that ‘they make my ass look amazing’. If he had been paying attention, he would have answered that he’s nobody’s servant, he doesn’t have to go tell Patrick anything and, in fact, he didn’t even have to come to say that to him and he just did because he met Patrick in the corridor on his way here and couldn’t say no when he asked him, because Patrick has that aura of respect unusual for a man of his height and complexion. But he wasn’t paying attention, so he doesn’t say anything else, just stays there trying to keep his mouth closed while he tries to get ready to start function again and stop thinking about what the hell just happened.

    The day before a game they’re not allowed to do much, because they have to be ‘focused’ until the time comes. That means they spend the day practically locked in the hotel and, if they go out, they do it all together with the coach and not for more than an hour or two. That’s exactly what they do when it’s ten o’clock in the morning. Ryan’s already back from the gym, showered and wearing another team sweat suit, because when you’re out for any official stuff, you’re not allowed to wear anything else. All of them players get together in the hotel hall to go for a walk around the hotel, nothing too elaborated, and anyone from the club is free to join them if they want to, but Ryan can’t see Brendon anywhere around when they go out.

    He spends almost the whole hour with Spencer, because in those moments the team is more relaxed, each one focusing in his own way, as if they needed a time alone by themselves. They talk about everything and anything, mostly about the game, the rival techniques, their best strategies of attack and defense, and Bob joins them a little while before going back to the hotel.

    After a controlled meal at the hotel restaurant, the afternoon is reserved for them, as long as they don’t do anything to alter their state of deep concentration. That, for Ryan, means staying at his bedroom and spending those hours reading one of the three books he usually brings in his suitcase, or using his laptop to watch some games of the rival team until he’s learned every play and little movement of the players that will be his target the next day.

    Spencer spends a couple of hours checking the last St. Louis games again with him —they’ve already analyzed them before once and again with Bob—, and they talk about them enough to know every weak spot and strong point and what to do at the match when Spencer goes back to his own bedroom. Ryan spends the rest of the evening reading and, having in mind that he has to wake up at six a.m., it’s no more than ten when Ryan turn off the lights and gets under the covers of the huge bed.

 

*

 

    Victory couldn’t taste better, and the noise fills up the locker room, echoing between the walls, the praising words to each other, the slaps in the back. Winning outside their home state has always that special part where you know you’ve done a good job, even if it’s not a super important match. Knowing there are people who came all the way from their homes to watch them play and support them adds responsibility to every move they make, every play. Winning tastes sweeter when you know you share your victory with another hundred of people who have put their trust in your team as well as you.

    Maybe it’s because of how they’re cheering up, the locker room, even the showers full of joy, the guys talking about some of the plays, praising the strong points of one another, the companionship feeling flowing naturally, that Bob seems to ease the heavy-handed approach he’s been using since the hangover incident. He even smiles some times, admitting there were some good plays, that it was a good game.

    “So this time we have permission to go celebrate, right, boss?” Asks Jeff, and Bob’s face changes a little because for sure he wants to say no, but that would create a bad atmosphere right now. It’s Thursday anyway, they’re close to the weekend, and they won’t practice tomorrow because they have to travel back home. Besides, there’s nothing Bob loves more than to be called ‘boss’.

    “I want no zombies in the bus back home. I’ll just say that.” He finally answers, and the guys cheer and raise their fists in the air. “Maybe even I’ll go out for a drink, why not?”

    That’s all the guys need to hear to know they definitely have permission. If Bob goes out with them, there’s no way he can hold anything against them the next day. Spencer says between laughs that he hopes the bus doesn’t leave too early tomorrow, because it’s just these times, when they’re out of town, when he can allow himself to get really wasted and celebrate properly without having Linda looking at him with her nose twisted when he gets back home.

    Ryan’s almost ready to get back to the hotel with Spencer and the rest of the guys, putting his clothes on after the shower, when a hand on his shoulder stops him and a wide smile blinds him before he can blink and identify whom it belongs to.

    “Physio first, party later:” Says Brendon with a mocking tone, looking then at Spencer with a sympathetic face for stealing his friend. “Good game, by the way.” He adds, this time talking to both of them. Spencer doesn’t say a thing, just moving his head and looking at Ryan, clearing his throat.

    “I’ll see you at the hotel. If you take too long, I’ll text you the address to where we’re going and stuff.” He says, turning around and going out. Brendon keeps looking at him before chuckling awkwardly and shrugging a little.

    “You and him, the only ones I can’t get to like me.” Brendon says, making a face. “Maybe it’s Vegas.”

    “Who says I don’t like you?” Ryan asks, punching Brendon’s arm lightly and smiling big because the adrenalin from the game and the victory runs still in his veins and he’s euphoric. Brendon looks at his own arm and then at Ryan, surprised but not losing his smile. “Don’t mind Spencer, he’s dry like that with everyone.” He laughs, knowing he would earn a punch from Spencer if he were still there.

    Brendon laughs and moves a hand to play it down, starting to walk out of the locker room while he jokes with Ryan saying he’ll try to release him as soon as he can to let him celebrate his well deserved victory. Ryan follows him, mostly because he has no idea where the physio’s room is, even if he’s been there before the match. Orientation and Ryan are not best friends, it’s like his brain uses his whole capacity for hockey so there’s nothing left for the rest. That or he really is that forgetful of things he doesn’t care about.

    Brendon doesn’t stop talking during the whole session, as always. He tells Ryan how Cassie’s office is so much better organized, following a logical order, how he can’t get used to be in another person place of work, and how he’s thinking about bringing his own utilities the next time they play outside their state. They end up talking about Vegas or Brendon talks about Vegas and Ryan listens and laughs sometimes. It’s the dynamic they’ve been following since they started having a more friendly relationship. Brendon talks, talks and talks, and for some reason Ryan likes to listen.

    “As good as new.” Brendon says, slapping Ryan’s thigh lightly before moving away. “You did a good job out there, I couldn’t even tell there was an overstrain. You’re free to go celebrate.”

    “You’re not coming this time?” Ryan asks while he puts on his jeans back. And it’s not that he’s that interested, it just seems weird, having in mind how the guys seem to love Brendon and always want him to go out with them. Brendon looks at him and shrugs, making a face.

    “I don’t know, I thought it was a team thing.” He says, picking up the things he’s used, going to his briefcase to take out a dossier with files. “No one told me to come.”

    “I’m telling you now, then.” Says Ryan, hanging his bag over his shoulder, and Brendon opens a half smile while he writes something on his papers and signs them. “You’re part of the team. If you think about it, without you maybe I wouldn’t have been able to play today. And without me, maybe we wouldn’t have win.” He adds, shrugging, making Brendon burst into laughing. “Think about it. I’ll tell one of the guys to text you the address and you decide.”

    “Just Patrick has my private number. The rest have the landline at my office.” Brendon says, finishing picking things up and closing his briefcase. Ryan stays in silence for a moment when he hears that. After watching him interact and getting along so well with the guys, he thought maybe at least a few of them would have Brendon’s number. It’s nothing weird, it’s the first thing you ask the new ones so everyone can keep in contact, but there’s something in the way Brendon has said ‘my private number’ that stops Ryan from asking for it.

    “Your only option is to decide before we get out of the hotel, then.” He says, keeping his tone cool even if he’s more intrigued than usual now. “I doubt Patrick will come. Or, um, I don’t know. I can call you. If you want.” He adds, and he doesn’t know why he’s insisting that much, actually. He’s going to celebrate with his teammates, he doesn’t need Brendon there, but it’s like a part of him wanted to. Maybe it’s because, after all, it’s true he wouldn’t have been able to play without Brendon’s help. He owns him. “If you don’t want to come or whatever, it’s fine. I don’t mind, you can. I mean, you don’t have to come just because I asked you to. If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” And he doesn’t even know anymore if he’s talking about the party or about the phone number.

    Brendon laughs soft, tuning his head to his briefcase and frowning a little when he opens it, getting out a cardholder and one of the cards from it. He sighs and bites his lip hard; so much the zone where he’s digging his teeth turns white in comparison with his natural pink tone. He puts the card on the table and, flips it around, taking a pen and writing something on it. Brendon closes his briefcase again and looks at what he just wrote for a while before sighing again and making a face. When he looks back at Ryan, his smile is back too, even if it’s not so huge anymore. He takes the card between his fingers, handing it over to Ryan, waiting for him to take it to speak again.

    “This is my number.” He says, his eyes still on the piece of paper when it’s already in Ryan’s hands, as if he were reckoning if he did well or not. “Do me a favor. Don’t give it to anyone else, okay? It’s…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just moves his hands and Ryan guesses he has to get it. He doesn’t get it, actually, but he nods anyway.

    “Yeah, sure.” He says, his eyes lowering to the card and the numbers on it. Judging Brendon’s words, it doesn’t seem like this is something he does with anyone, and Ryan feels a weight at the bottom of his stomach, as if he were sharing something secret with Brendon, something only them know and it has to remain like that. “I’ll text you the address, then.” He says after some seconds of silence, looking then at Brendon. “And, well… I’ll see you there. Or whatever.”

    “I’ll see you there or whatever.” Brendon nods, using Ryan’s words and sitting behind the desk, moving the mouse of a computer who seems older than Ryan and frowning at the screen, as if he couldn’t understand what to do with that. He makes a resignation face, looking then at Ryan and laughing. “Go back to the hotel. Spencer’s waiting for you.”

    “Oh. Yes. It’s… yeah.”  Ryan answers, coming back to earth like Brendon’s words kick started him, opening the door to get out. “See you, Bren.” He says before getting out, the nickname coming out casually, as if he used it everyday, not even noticing it.

    “Better than ‘Mr. Urie’, for sure.” Brendon jokes, waving his hand good bye, turning back his face to the screen and clicking a couple of times looking totally lost. Ryan just laughs low and goes his way down the corridor, thinking vaguely that this may be the first time he uses Brendon’s name.

    Spencer’s still at the hotel when Ryan gets there, and he goes to his room where Derek and Blake are too, finalizing details before going out. As tradition demands, they’ve looked for the biggest, noisiest, more well known nightclub in town, also the most exclusive, of course, because maybe Ryan’s not interested in the privileges they get for being part of one of the most famous hockey teams in the whole country, but that’s not a trait a lot of his teammates share. Before he forgets about it, Ryan texts the location to Brendon and makes sure to clarify it’s him at the end of the text, to avoid misunderstandings.

    They take the official bus and they arrive making as much noise as they can because they’re obnoxious like that when they win in another state, like they want to leave a mark on the city. The looks they get from the people waiting in line outside are mostly of admiration or surprise; there are just a few that look at them warily for taking away the victory from the home team. Unless they’re really fans, people doesn’t really care which team you’re from, just that you’re famous.

    One of the good things about your fame being more important than anything is that no one says anything about the clothes you’re wearing when you go to a club. Tom is the most flamboyant dude you could ever met, and Ryan’s sure that, if he wasn’t who he is, he would have been kicked out of more places than he would’ve been allowed to get in. That’s why Ryan doesn’t think about his outfit too much, just changes his sweatshirt for a leather jacket and the sneakers for some more appropriate shoes. His jeans and his shirt stay as they are. The hair is another story, and it’s the target of scorns, especially from Spencer. Ryan doesn’t care, it’s not like he wasn’t used to hear them since they were kids.

    The inside of the club is not as crowded as one could think at first, judging how many people were waiting outside, but that’s something usual in exclusive places like this. The few tables distributed along the walls are taken, just like the bar or the dance floor, but some PR assistance introduce themselves immediately and start indicating where they should go to get to the VIP zone, which takes the whole second floor, designed with boxes with a view to the dance floor and bar.

    Spencer makes a gesture with his head to point at the stairs while a girl puts a bracelet around Ryan’s wrist without asking. Some of the guys stay interacting with some people while Ryan and some others go up the stairs. Spencer never was a big lover of dancing and, as he said before, his only purpose tonight is celebrating drinking until he passes out.

    The first round is on the house, and Ryan remembers how at first, when he started going to clubs and parties, he didn’t understand why would anyone want to have millionaire guys at their business if they were the ones buying them drinks. It was a teammate back then who laughed at him and told him just a simple word: marketing. Ryan didn’t understand it that well back then, but with time he realized that the simple fact of some one famous coming to your club was enough to make the reservation and visits go through the roof. That was when Ryan stopped feeling guilty about the free drinks.

    The music is not that loud in the VIP zone, but the noise is fairly high anyway. Ryan just feels his phone ringing when it vibrates in his pocked, and he takes it out wondering who could it be since anyone interested in talking with him is here right now at the club. It surprises him seeing Brendon’s name on the screen, and he gets up from where he’s sitting near Spencer, moving to some place quieter. He needs to cover one of his ears anyway to be able to catch the voice at the other side of the line.

    “Hey.” He greets, thinking maybe Brendon’s looking for him and he couldn’t find him since he’s up here. It doesn’t make much sense because Brendon could have asked one of the boys downstairs, and he doesn’t even have reasons to look for Ryan in the first place.

    “Hi.” Greets back Brendon’s cheerful voice, followed by a little laugh, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Uh. Thanks for inviting me and all that, but…” Brendon stops for a moment, and Ryan can hear the wind at the other side, like Brendon was on the street. “I don’t think I can get in. I mean. The waiting line is huge, it reaches the end of the block.”

    “Waiting line?” Ryan asks, raising his voice a little so he can hear himself talk. It didn’t even crossed his mind that Brendon had to wait in line, but of course, Brendon’s not famous. “Wait.” He says, going to the stairs without telling anyone and without hanging up, going down to the first floor and to the door where he came in not even five minutes ago. The doorman looks at him funny, but he doesn’t say a thing and lets him out with a nod. “Where are you?” Ryan asks when he feels the cold street air contrasting with the heat inside the club.

    “I’m in front of the entrance, but like, across the street.” Brendon explains. “I wasn’t going to wait in line because it would be like impossible to get in… Oh. Wait. I think I see you. Did you get out for me? Hiiiiii.” He says laughing. Ryan looks around, scanning the sidewalk across the street until he sees Brendon waving at him. He laughs too, shaking his head.

    “No. I sent my astral projection to get you.” He says, raising his hand and waving. “Get over here, come on.”

    “Okay.” Brendon laughs, and Ryan can see how he takes the phone off his ear just to bring it back and add: “Bye. I mean. See you. Like, right now.” Ryan can hear him laugh before the line cuts.

    Brendon puts the phone in the back pocket of his jeans and look at the sides for a moment before running towards Ryan. He greets him with one of those huge smiles while he hugs himself, rubbing his arms with his hands.

    “Hey.” Says Ryan, putting away his own phone and pointing at the door with his head. “Come on, you don’t have to wait in line.” He says, staying at his side to walk inside again.

    “Oh. _Oh._ ” Brendon looks at him, walking but not looking so sure when he looks at the doorman. “Are you sure?”

    “Of course.” Says Ryan, looking at him amused. “Take a little advantage of me, physio.” He jokes, saying hi to the doorman again and just adding ‘he’s with me’ to make him open the door for them and let them in without a word.

    “I’ll keep it in mind.” Says Brendon, loud enough for Ryan to hear but not so much. Ryan’s going to say something to that, because it seems the atmosphere around Brendon lightens up when they’re not working, but just right then one of the girls Ryan saw putting Tom one of the bracelets passes through.

    “Hey, beautiful.” He says, using an arm to hold the girl by her waist soft, leaning in so she can hear him. “He’s with the team.” He says with a smile, pointing at Brendon with his free hand and making the girl smile with her red lips, her blonde hair shining under the club lights when she approaches Brendon to take a bracelet and put it around his wrist. Brendon’s eyes are big, striking, perfect for Ryan to see how they move fast from one place to another, from Ryan’s face to the hand around the girl’s waist, to her smile, to the bracelet around his wrist. The movements are fast and precise, and he’s completed the tour when the girl finishes closing the bracelet clasp, just in time to look at her with a big wide smile.

    “Thanks! Don’t let them overstep their boundaries with you. If you need to bitch slap a couple of them, you have my blessing, I’m their physio.” Brendon jokes. The girl laughs and nods, bringing his hands to Brendon’s shoulders and leaning in a little.

    “I’ll call you to do it then. I bet you know all the right places.” She laughs, and Brendon laughs with her, moving away and waving her hand saying ‘have fun, guys’, her look fixed in Brendon a couple more seconds. Ryan knows those looks.

    “She likes you.” He says, leaning in to speak closer to Brendon, smirking. “We’re upstairs, but I’ll understand if you want to follow her instead of me.” He jokes. Brendon follows the girl with his eyes until she fades into the crowd, looking at Ryan then with a playful smile.

    “I won a girl over from you. Woah, I feel so proud of myself.” He laughs, looking up to where Ryan has pointed, then looking around. “I think I want a drink before. Or do they have drinks upstairs too? Sorry, I haven’t been in a lot of VIP zones before.” He jokes, not really joking. Ryan laughs.

    “You can order a drink upstairs too.” He says, taking off his leather jacket because it’s starting to get hot in there. Brendon looks at him and nods.

    “You guide, then. I have no idea how this luxury world works.” He says dramatically, laughing then. “I’m in your hands.”

    “How does it feel to be you the one who’s in someone else’s hands?” Ryan jokes, laughing and walking towards the stairs.

    “I never have people in my hands. I’ve got my hands _on_ people.” Brendon corrects him in a know-it-all way while he follows Ryan. “To be the other way around, you would have to put your hands _on_ me. So, I think the joke’s on you.” He finishes, looking at Ryan pleased with himself. Ryan lowers his head and laughs, struggling between saying what just came to his head or ~~f~~ not because, actually, he shouldn’t be thinking about all of the implications of that sentence. He’s about to digress, ignoring the idea of having his hands on Brendon even in a friendly way, when they get to the second floor and he bumps into Spencer.

    “Where the fuck have you been?” It’s the way Spencer welcomes him back, taking a step back to let them get in the box, his face clearing up a bit when he shifts his gaze and sees Brendon coming behind Ryan.

    Spencer eyes get stuck in Brendon, with one of those looks just Spencer has and that are able to paralyze anyone on the receiving end. Brendon doesn’t seem immune to it, because he stops cold right there, looking back at Spencer without saying a word, as if he was waiting for permission to talk. For a moment, it almost looks like Brendon’s going to step back, to get away from there, but the rest of the guys there shout his name, calling him and raising their arms, saying ‘Urie! Come here celebrate with us!!’ That seems enough for Brendon to get back his smile and go past Ryan and Spencer, getting into the room and grabbing a drink someone just put in his hand.

    Ryan looks at Spencer and raises an eyebrow, not understanding why that bad mood so suddenly. He lets it go, anyway, because it’s not like he’s that interested in knowing what the hell happened to Spencer with Brendon. Maybe the physio was right and Spencer didn’t like him after all. Ryan was there to celebrate, not to talk about those things.

    “He was going to wait in line and everything.” He says as an explanation, punching Spencer shoulder, smiling and pointing at the drink in his hand. “Why don’t you take me where I can get one of those?”

    “You should have sent some of these ones.” Spencer hiss, but he puts an arm around Ryan’s shoulders and smile at him, more or less. “This night is for us, Ross.” He says, looking at Brendon with certain disdain where he’s sitting now with the guys, talking animated, before tugging Ryan and taking him out the room, going around the second floor to get to a little private bar there, just for them. “Same here for my friend. We made history today.” Says Spencer to the bartender, pointing at his drink, shaking Ryan a bit. “No. You know what? Leave the bottle. And tell one of those girls to bring a couple more of them. We’re in…” Spencer frowns, looking back to where the guys are to see if he can spot their place. “Well, I’m sure they know where we are.”

    Ryan laughs and looks at his friend sideways, his eyebrows raised and his eyes looking at the glass in his hand and back to his face.

    “How many of those did you have since we’ve been here?” He jokes, nodding as a thank you when the bartender leaves a bottle on the bar in front of them. “And you know it was just a match, right? Make history would be wining the Stanly Cup, dude. That’s what we have to do. Then the party would be amazing.”

    “It’s gonna happen.” Says Spencer, totally serious. “We’re taking that cup home, Ry.” He says, taking the bottle and filling up his glass, giving it to Ryan and raising the own bottle in the air. “And, as an answer to your question, not enough. My intention is to end up wasted enough to ignore how you abandoned your own teammates to go look for the physio.” He jokes, or Ryan thinks he’s joking. He rolls his eyes and raises the glass, bringing it to his mouth to swallow the cold liquid that burns his throat. Spencer drinks from the bottle, making a face and laughing then.

    “Let’s start then.” He says, smiling. “Let’s see who has more memory lapses tomorrow.”

    Spencer laughs out loud and pats Ryan’s back a few times, putting his arm around him again and going their way back to the room where the rest are. The guys that stayed downstairs before are now there too, them and some of their hook ups for tonight.

    There are more girls than team members, and soon they start using the guy’s laps as seats, since the couches are all taken. Spencer raises his hands and shakes his head because he only has eyes for Linda, even if they wander sometimes to some cleavage. Some of the girls pouts, and there’s no time before someone says something like ‘don’t worry, girls, there’s a place for one more here’. They start telling stories about the games, their almost heroic plays and how hard was that or how they won this.

    “But we’re still undefeated, so that means we fucking kick ass.” Says Blake, and the rest of the team cheers up, agreeing with him. The girls laugh and share some looks between each other, like they were having a conversation without words. Ryan can do that with Spencer, but that doesn’t mean he understand when someone else does it. Brendon, however, seems like he’s on their team, sharing the looks with the girls and laughing with them, the same way, about the same stories. Sometimes even looks like they’re laughing at them, not with them.

    “Are you from here? Are you from this town?” Asks Derek, and some of them say yes, some say no, there’s a few of them from outside the town, but not from another state. “Because I have to say it. I have to say it. Listen, the girls here, you’re awesome, but your team.” He cuts himself when he starts laughing, bringing the drink to his lips, drinking and licking them. “Let’s see, we can say they’re missing something, I don’t know. Like, _manliness_ , don’t you think?” He jokes and the rest of the guys laugh, the girls sharing a look between them and laughing too.

    “No, no, let’s say it clear, Derek. Your team is just a bunch of sissies.” Adds Jeff, and the rest laugh more, hitting the table with their hands and patting Jeff’s back. Ryan rolls his eyes, because it’s not the first time he’s heard the discourse about the ‘little girl’s team’, drinking and filling his glass again. “They thought they could handle us because no one had make them bite the dust yet, but that’s because they hadn’t met a team with a good pair of balls. And we kicked their fucking ass, eh, Spencer? Spencer’s the one who send them home crying.”

    “Fucking home!” Agrees Spencer, raising his drink and making everyone else do the same, cheering at unison. The girls don’t say anything, they just keep smiling and some of them lean over each other to say something at their ear, but nothing else.

    “Aren’t you bored?” Asks Brendon to the ones sitting near him with a knowing smile, looking around him, not talking loud enough to stand over the guy’s voices, just enough so the girls can hear him. “Hockey, hockey, hockey. This is a nightclub, right? I’m tired of just sitting here. I’m going to the dance floor.” He says, and when he gets up to leave, four of the girls do that too, following him when he gets out of the room and goes downstairs.

    Ryan looks at him closely while he keeps drinking and the rest keep doing whatever they’re doing. It’s fascinating, how easy Brendon seems to catch his attention with the simplest thing, how it makes him want to know more, see more, look at him like you look at a wild animal in his natural habitat. It’s like, somehow, Brendon breaks any expectation Ryan has about people when he’s around. That’s what makes Ryan stay in his seat exactly three minutes after Brendon leaving. Between laughs and cheers, Ryan grabs his glass and stands up, going to the box handrail and resting his weight there to lean out and look, the view of the whole first floor in front of him.

    Ryan has no idea if his eyes seem especially trained to spot Brendon in the crowd or if Brendon just stands out that much to make him notice him. The thing is Ryan sees him, right there, almost in the center of the dance floor, the four girls that went with him dancing around him and looking like they’re having a great time. Brendon doesn’t know how to dance, Ryan’s sure nothing that he’s doing can be name as a ‘dance move’, but he has rhythm. He probably has more rhythm that the whole damned dance floor and he moves like he was the one guiding the music and not the other way. He makes a fool of himself sometimes, and makes stupid faces, and some other times he moves waving like a snake, and there’s not even a bit of shame in him any of the ways. He’s pure confidence. He knows he can move.

    And Ryan really, really, doesn’t know what to think about Brendon. He knows a lot and he doesn’t now a thing about him, it confuses him but also attracts his attention, he’s like one of those things that makes you eternally wonder about if taking them or letting them go, because they give you nothing to take but somehow you can’t seem to let them go. Ryan’s not good with social relationships. And it’s not just that he’s not good, but also he doesn’t care about them. In all of this time knowing Cassie or Patrick, for example, the only kind of relation Ryan has with them is a professional one, cordial, and he doesn’t want them to be any other way. But Brendon doesn’t let him stay in a strictly professional ground, while he doesn’t really give him options to be anything else.

    Ryan feels the alcohol affecting him too much, or not enough, when he finds himself trapped in that spiral of thoughts with Brendon as his only focus, and his eyes follow Brendon’s moves on the floor, giving him ideas that just confuse him more. He turns around but stays there resting his elbows on the handrail, finishing his drink, whatever it is he’s drinking, he doesn’t even know anymore, seeing the lights blurred and his senses muddled.

    It takes a while until he turns back again, and he’s not going to think about why he does it, feeling a little disappointed when he sees Brendon’s not on the same spot anymore, the girls still dancing now alone. Ryan doesn’t last to find him again, because it seems it’s impossible to get rid of the magnet Brendon has on his eyes, and he watches him cross the dance floor and go to the bar, leaning in to call the bartender. It’s absurd he’s ordering his drink down there, waiting to be attended, spending his own money, when he could go back upstairs and have his drink ready in a matter of seconds on account of the club’s platinum card.

    Brendon doesn’t seem to care about those thinks, doesn’t seem to care about what everyone else cares, or maybe he does but he doesn’t show it. Ryan doesn’t know. Ryan doesn’t really know anything about Brendon.

    The bartender attends him finally, and he instantly smiles because Brendon has that effect on people. One of his smiles and boom, you can’t hold your face muscles. It doesn’t happen with Ryan, that’s true; Brendon himself accused him of not smiling even once since they met. Ryan wonders if Brendon found that odd, if it stuck on his brain as the many things he’s done that got stuck on Ryan’s brain as well. Brendon turns around when some guy touches his shoulder, and Ryan sharpens his look. He’s not from the team. Everyone in the team is upstairs. The guy talks and Brendon’s talks back, flashing him with a thousand watts smile and using his hands to talk, leaning in the bar, resting his elbow there while he waits for his drink to come. The guy smiles too and, really, Ryan doesn’t understand how does that guy knows Brendon, because he has to know him from somewhere, there’s no other explanation for how he’s leaning so close to him, Brendon nodding and acting like it’s totally normal. Brendon drinks arrives and he takes it in his hand, leaning into the guy to say something in his ear, bringing the glass to his lips and looking at him while he drinks before walking away.

    It takes just a minute for the guy to move in Brendon’s direction. Ryan’s range of vision is limited, so he has to lean out more to follow them with his eyes, but there’s a moment where or he loses sight of them, or he falls down. Ryan waits a couple more minutes, guessing Brendon would come back to the dance floor soon, or maybe he’ll come upstairs again and introduce them to his friend, maybe a sibling, a colleague. It doesn’t happen. Brendon doesn’t get back on the dance floor or come upstairs, and Ryan is more intrigued than he’s willing to admit.

    He tries to go back to his things, staying with the guys, forget about Brendon being in this same club with him, that he came here because Ryan invited him and he got in because Ryan went to look for him. He tries, but his brain just goes back to the image of Brendon disappearing with that guy close on his heels, not coming back even if the minutes keep passing. And Ryan’s not stupid, Ryan can add two and two and see what’s going on, but for some reason, not really knowing, not being certain about what’s happening between Brendon and that guy is making him crazy.

    “Be right back.” He says when he gets to the guys, more to Spencer than anyone else, leaving his glass on the table and not waiting for an answer before getting to the stairs and going down the first floor. And he’s not sure about what he’s doing, it’s like he’s body has made this decision for him, but right now Ryan can’t stop to think about the possible reasons for why he’s heading the way Brendon disappeared a while ago.

    It seems like there’s more people now than before, or maybe it’s just the way Ryan feels, but he needs to make his way in the crowd of people, dodging some of them and bumping into some others because his reflexes are not in their best moment. He can feel the effects of the alcohol clouding his sight and making him clumsy, but he’s still aware of what he does and sees, even if he doesn’t know if he prefers the opposite.

    When he gets to his destination, he sees a long corridor that he’s sure goes to the restrooms, and he feels the sudden urge to get in there harder than before, see what’s happening, interrupt it if necessary, dammit. Before he can step closer, someone grab his arm and Ryan turns around to see some girls looking at him with huge smiles and big eyes, talking louder than the music and laughing boisterously. They say something about being fans of the team, they ask things about hockey they don’t really care about and they wait, with generous cleavages and suggestive looks, to see who will be the lucky one Ryan chooses. And Ryan would, in any other moment he would follow their game, he would open their smiles and maybe something else later, but right now he’s so focused in his target he just nods and allows a couple more minutes of an empty conversation before excusing himself, moving away from them without looking back to see their disappointed faces.

    There’s no one waiting in the corridor, not to go to the men’s restroom, so Ryan crosses the corridor straight to the door, pushing it and opening it without effort, frowning and squinting for the suddenly intense white light in contrast with the club, the noise of the music and the voices soothing down a little when the door closes behind his back. He can hear it before he can see it, the characteristic laugh of Brendon, changed, turned into something different for how it comes out between short gasps, somehow darker, hoarse. It’s a matter of seconds before the door of one of the cubicles, the only one closed, opens.

    It’s a shocking vision, like when you’re a teenager and you see one of your teachers walking casually in the street. Brendon still has his hands tangled in the guy’s shirt, and the guy’s biting Brendon’s lips, not kissing, biting, like Ryan has seen Brendon do to himself so many times. His cheeks are red and his lips even more, his hair is a mess and his skin shines. He’s so out of this world that he takes, they take, a few seconds to realize there’s someone else in there. The unknown guy swears and gets away from Brendon instantly as if it burns, scanning the restroom with his eyes and running away when he sees that Ryan’s not paying attention to him at all. Brendon, on the contrary, looks like he’s frozen, his face pale except for how his blush resist to go away, his eyes wide open, his fists closed hard, his whole body in tension.

    Ryan doesn’t know what his face is showing right now, he doesn’t even know what is it weighting down his stomach and blurring in his head. It was obvious he was going to find something like this, but somehow the picture is fire branded on his brain now, the guy’s teeth biting Brendon’s lips, his hands grabbing the fabric with that confidence you share with someone when you did with them what they just did. Ryan feels something burning in the bottom of his stomach and he guesses he’s drunk too much for tonight.

    So, after all, Brendon’s gay. Or he likes guys, at least. Ryan was almost getting used to the idea that he was straight and this is messing up with him, mostly because his mind goes back to that time at the bar, that open flirtation, the session after that, how Ryan got hard. All those times. Ryan’s starting to think, for the first time since he started thinking about this, that maybe Brendon’s just not interested in Ryan to be the one who shares with him a restroom cubicle.

    “What? Uh?” Brendon asks suddenly, and Ryan realizes he’s been staring this whole time without saying a word. He asks it with a firm voice, his nose opening and his jack clenching, but the challenging tone loses some effect for how his lips trembles, how he swallows hard. “What are you gonna do? Hum? Are you gonna kick my ass? Are you gonna send me home crying?” He asks, using the same words Jeff used before. Ryan feels confused for the sudden attack and he lasts a few seconds before understanding what the problem is. The same why Ryan’s always careful about doing the same thing with guys.

    Ryan shrugs and goes to the sinks with slow steps, trying to order everything that’s passing through his head and keep controlling the burning feeling inside his stomach that tries to crawl up his guts like hands of fire making its way to his chest and his neck.

    “I don’t care who you have fun with.” He says, using those words because saying ‘I don’t care who you fuck’ sounds too belittling in his head. And it’s true, he can’t judge him for that. Or for anything. But, especially, not for that, having in mind that he does it too.

    He opens one of the faucets and gets his hands under the cold water, focusing his eyes there because he can’t look at Brendon without those fire hands burning up his throat. He can hear him, though, his agitated breath, how the air comes and goes out of his body really fast, making Ryan wonder if those accelerated heartbeats that demands so much oxygen are because of Ryan’s intrusion or just the effect the other body left on his.

    Brendon doesn’t say anything and, for a moment, he doesn’t even move. He just stays there, like a statue, like Medusa looked at him in the eyes. Ryan soaks his face, not sure if to ease the alcohol effects or to try to erase the image inside his head, and he turns to look at Brendon and crossing his arms in his chest, unable to stop focusing in how his skin shines or how his lips are so red. Lips that start trembling again when Ryan takes a look at them, making Brendon wet them with his tongue before pressing them together, controlling them.

    “Really.” Ryan says, sighing and letting out the tension gathered in his muscles. “You don’t have to worry. I didn’t see anything.” He eases him, making a gesture with his face to play it down, assuring he will keep his mouth shut. Brendon looks at him, his eyes still huge and not getting back the color on his face. However, he nods, moving his head and that’s more than he’s moved since Ryan got here.

    “Thanks.” He murmurs, lowering his head and smoothing out his shirt when he starts walking his way to the door, getting out of there without looking at Ryan’s face. Ryan stays there a little more, his gaze fixed on the door Brendon’s gone through, thinking about how if it was difficult before to keep his thoughts in line, now knowing Brendon likes guys too it’s going to be an impossible mission. After seeing him getting out of that cubicle with that guy, Ryan can’t keep denying how much he likes the idea of being him the one who makes Brendon’s lips look like that.

    “Awesome.” He says ironic, getting out of the restroom and going back to the VIP zone with the others. He needs more alcohol in his system.

 

*

 

    If before that Brendon seemed to have the gift of being right there where Ryan was, to suddenly appear in the locker room or the gym or wherever, now it seems like his gift has turned backwards. It’s like Brendon has the capacity of knowing where Ryan would be and when to avoid him completely. Not seeing him at the club that night or when they went back to the hotel could have been a coincidence, but not even seeing him the next time in their bus back to Chicago wasn’t something arbitrary at all.

    Brendon avoiding him wasn’t something crazy at all, after what happened, and Ryan knows he shouldn’t feel anything about it. That Friday after the game they all arrived home exhausted, and they had the weekend free, so it was logic that, in the few hours they could have talked again, Brendon didn’t have enough time to meditate the situation and realize it was absurd to avoid Ryan. He’s not going to do anything about it, anyway, he’ll let Brendon come to that conclusion all by himself and stop running from Ryan. They’ll have to talk, sooner or later, because Ryan needs to keep having those sessions with him and the physiotherapy room is a place where Brendon can’t avoid Ryan even if he wants to.

    So that’s exactly what happens after the following day’s practice. They follow their routine of locker room/shower/laughs, some of them talking about their hook ups back there, while some others try to get Spencer to remember something from that night at all. Ryan can help him just to a point, because after that he has a big memory lapse too. They get clean and put on their clothes and talk until, in the end, Ryan’s the only one left picking up his things, following the way he’s memorized, with the bag and jeans over his shoulder and his sneakers in his hand.

    He doubts about knocking at the door or not, and he ends up deciding not giving Brendon the chance of keeping ignoring him. He opens the door just like that, sticking in his head first to see if Brendon’s there and then letting his body follow it. Brendon jumps the moment the door opens, raising his head from where he had it lowered down, biting his nails, and looks at Ryan surprised and almost taken aback. He blinks for a few seconds, as if he were trying to discern if Ryan’s really there of he’s just imaging it, and he rubs his hands together then, cracking his fingers all at once and standing up from his seat, taking some post-it notes from the desk and crumpling them, leaving them on the table.

    “How was practice?” He asks suddenly, and his voice sounds so natural it almost cover up the fact that he doesn’t look at Ryan’s face and he’s moving so rigid he almost looks like a robot, starting to look in the cabinet for the things that he needs.

    “Good. But I think I rest my weight on my thigh in a wrong way.” Ryan says, leaving his things where usual beside the door and going to the stretcher. “It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I feel it more over-loaded than before.” He tries to keep his tone cool, as if nothing had happened despite how Brendon’s tension is making him more nervous.

    “Okay. Let’s take a look. You don’t need to lie down, you can just seat like that.” Brendon adds, clearing his throat and walking towards him, leaving the lotion he uses near Ryan and rubbing his hands together, looking at the tube like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

    Ryan nods, staying as he is in the edge of the stretcher and using his hands as a rest behind his back. Brendon takes the fascinating lotion and puts some on his fingers, taking the stool out from under the stretcher with one of his feet and sitting down between Ryan’s legs, fixing his look on the thigh. He moves his hands in Ryan’s direction two times, but he stops them, like there was something blocking him. In the end, he swallows and sighs lightly, rubbing his fingers together and opening his hands to place them on Ryan’s thigh.

    “If, uh. If you feel uncomfortable anytime, just tell me.” He says with a whisper, his hands starting to move a little bit unsure over Ryan’s muscles, looking with his fingers in some places.

    Ryan doesn’t say anything. For a moment he thinks about telling Brendon nothing has changed between them since the last session, but it really has, and he can feel it in how his throat dries out and the hair of his neck stand on end. He clears his throat and tries to focus in anything that’s not Brendon, but his gaze keep coming back to his face, the line of his jaw, his lips now clearly less red that the last time he saw them.

    “You’re tensing up.” Brendon says, and presses his fingers a little more, as if he wanted Ryan to see how hard the muscles under them were. “Are you okay?”

    “Yeah, yes. Sorry.” Ryan says, forcing his body to relax, loosing up his muscles. He can feel the warm sensation in the lower part of his belly, and it’s not the first time he’s felt this in these circumstances, so he prays everything he knows to all of the Gods he never believed in to make it stop and not repeat it again, starting to think about the worst scenarios to get him out of where he is.

    Brendon raises his eyes for a second, just a second, the necessary to look at Ryan’s eyes before going back to his work, starting to knead each muscle separately, then some groups, then all of them together. He repeats this once and again, his hands wandering soft and expertly around Ryan’s skin, starting to bite his lips compulsively when he has to go up Ryan thigh.

    “Breathe.” Brendon says when his fingers touches the hem of Ryan’s underwear, and his voice is calm, but it’s also a lot of other things that vibrate in Ryan’s skin. “It’s almost over, I need to cover this zone and we’re over. I won’t have to touch you again. But I need you to relax, okay? Can you relax a little bit for me, Ry?”

    And it’s too much. Ryan can feel exactly that it’s too much when he lets his guard slip and looks directly at Brendon, wanting to tell him the problem it’s not that he want’s him to stop, actually. But there’s no need to say a thing, because he can feel the weave of heat crawling from where Brendon’s touching him up to his neck, and he doesn’t just feel, but _sees_ horrified how his body betrays him once more and says everything he had to say, his hard-on growing inside his boxer briefs, his cheeks turning dark red. He’s unable to move, to say anything, totally paralyzed while his brain screams to him to do something, even if it’s running away from there almost naked.

    He can feel the moment Brendon realizes what’s happening for how his hands freeze right where they are, his eyes fixed in the so obvious bulge under Ryan’s underwear, the elastic fabric doing him a disservice drawing his erection almost perfectly, which left little to the imagination. Ryan can _hear_ how Brendon’s breath get thicker, how it gets out of his lips slowly before he licks them. Brendon blinks a couple of times but he doesn’t stop looking, and staying right there between Ryan’s legs makes it impossible for him to close them or cover himself in some way. Ryan’s breath almost stops and he can hear his own heartbeat inside his ears while he fixes his wide eyes on Brendon.

     Of all the reactions Ryan would had expected Brendon to have, keeping on with the massage wouldn’t have been in the first hundred. However, that’s what he does, starting to move his hands again, slower, more carefully. He goes up and down, and when he goes up again, he bends his fingers, scratching Ryan’s skin with the back of his nails. The air gets stuck in Ryan’s throat, and his chest moves faster, making him ball his fist on the stretcher and swallow hard. His whole skin gets goose bumps as if he were in the middle of a snowstorm while he feels Brendon’s touch like fire, and he can’t stop looking, he can’t move, he just tries to control his breath and waits, even if he doesn’t know what.

    Brendon looks at him again, as fast as before, as well-aimed, right into Ryan’s eyes, but there’s something different this time, a light behind his pupils, something Ryan hasn’t seen before and he can’t register to think about it before Brendon had looked away again. He keeps on massaging, placing his hands at each side of Ryan’s thigh and kneading, getting his thumbs together in the center and smoothing with them, moving them in circles while he goes up. The movements are more determined now, but not faster. That’s why, when Brendon goes up past the fabric and brush Ryan’s erection with one of his thumbs, Ryan can feel it perfectly, how it trace the outline slowly before moving away, sliding his hands back down to start over.

    Ryan feels it in every one of his nerve endings, making him tense on the stretcher, his whole body shaking lightly, looking for more, his breath stuttering before coming out audibly and, above all, his cock jumping, answering to that soft touch. His cheeks gets redder than before, but now Ryan keeps looking at Brendon, waiting for his next move because he knows this one wasn’t accidental.

     Brendon notices, of course he does, the way Ryan’s body has reacted to such a little touch, and he bites the corner of his bottom lip when he starts to repeat every movement again with his hands, placing them on Ryan’s knee. He goes up slowly, but not as much as before, and his look wanders from his own hands to Ryan’s eyes when he’s half way up. This time he doesn’t look away, he stares. He does while he keeps on going up, his breath speeding up a little when he passes the fabric limit, making his lips wet with his tongue before speaking at the same time his thumb outlines Ryan’s hard-on.

     “I think now is your turn to tell me to stop.” He explains, his voice soft and low, a bit hoarse. “Or to keep going.”

    Ryan’s eyes darken while he swallows, his whole body prickling because of the waiting, the want. And Brendon’s careful touches are making him lose his mind more than anything. In a sudden move, he grabs Brendon’s wrist hard and pulls up to place Brendon’s whole hand where he wants it, the air abandoning his lungs in a sharp gasp when he feels it, his cock getting harder under Brendon’s palm while his eyes closes for a moment. And he hopes that’s enough as an answer, because right now he doesn’t think he can articulate. Brendon groans from his chest, his hand closing around Ryan almost the very second he feels the heat against his skin. He swallows while he keeps looking at Ryan, moving his hand, stroking, touching his whole length eager even if the fabric makes his movements rough, not letting it slide, getting stuck while Brendon touches him.

    “Fuck, Ryan.” Brendon swears, getting up the stool, making it roll backwards and setting his free hand on the stretcher near Ryan’s body, breathing against his mouth when he gets closer, moving his hand up to shove it down under Ryan’s boxers this time. Ryan moans hoarse and opens his legs more, thrusting with his hips against Brendon’s hand and moving closer to the edge, his hands doing what they want and finding their way to the focal point of his obsession since the day he saw Brendon with those damned skinny jeans, sneaking down under Brendon’s uniform to grab his ass, pushing him further towards him.

    “I think you should keep going.” He says breathy, looking down at Brendon’s lips and biting his own hard. Brendon laughs, he laughs out loud in a burst while he rest his forehead against Ryan’s, his fingers wrapping around Ryan’s cock like they were made for it. He licks his lips and nods, moving his hand with his head, laughing for the last time before Ryan feels some fingers going up his neck, tangling in his hair, pushing to make it easier for Brendon to press their lips together, biting them, opening them with his tongue.

    Ryan groans and kisses back as hard as Brendon does, opening his mouth under his and digging his fingers on Brendon’s butt cheeks, pushing him against his mouth to lick him, bite him, taste him. And Ryan has shared a lot of kisses in his life, but the electricity he’s feeling running through his body when his tongue grazes Brendon’s and his teeth bites into his lips, how they’re kissing as if they wanted to eat themselves alive, is making him sure he’s not going to forget about this in his life.

    When Brendon moves apart, he does it just so he can take that awful coat that he wears as a uniform off, letting Ryan see his naked torso without shame, smirking when Ryan looks at him. And Ryan has to look, because Brendon’s body is something worth belonging between Praxiteles life’s works. It’s not a excessively worked out body, not a gym one, maybe he doesn’t even have a work out routine, but it’s the body of someone who doesn’t know how to stay still, someone who’s always moving, and he moves fine. Ryan can’t help but remember Brendon’s moves on the dance floor, thinking about how would it be to have them on top of him.

    “Take this off, come on, wanna see you.” Brendon asks, grabbing the hem of Ryan’s shirt with one hand and pulling up, the other one still inside Ryan’s boxers, stroking him without wasting a second. “God, fuck, you’re huge.” He pants before kissing Ryan again, still pulling up his shirt like he wants to do everything at the same time and he wants to do it now. “Tell me my favorite Casanova has some condoms.”

    Ryan laughs, the sound more a breath than anything else, taking his own shirt off and letting it fall on the floor, the jingle of the silver chain around his neck barely audible due to his agitated breath. He moves his hands to Brendon’s hips, kissing him again and pushing him a little so he can get up the stretcher, standing up in front of him. Ryan takes two longs steps to reach his bag and look inside one of the little pockets, finding right away what he’s looking for.

    “Haven’t you seen me enough already?” he asks, joking, smirking when he gets closer to Brendon again, sneaking his hand inside Brendon’s pants to leave the condom between the elastic waistband of his boxers and his skin before leaning in and drag his lips along Brendon’s jaw, biting and grabbing his ass hard, pressing Brendon against his body and groaning from his chest when he feels Brendon’s hot skin burning against his, Brendon’s scent filling up his senses.

    Brendon laughs again, like Ryan question were totally absurd, and Ryan can feel how Brendon’s neck skin vibrate under his lips, moving his head to give him space, wanting him to keep running his mouth across his skin. Brendon hands move to travel Ryan’s body, grabbing his neck to guide his head, demanding, knowing what he wants and going for it unashamed. The stretcher hits the wall when Brendon pushes Ryan against it with his whole body, forcing Ryan to get back on it.

    Before Ryan can notice, Brendon grabs the condom Ryan left him, bringing it to his mouth to hold it between his teeth before pushing down his own pants and underwear, letting them fall and using his legs to get rid of them, taking off his shoes with his own feet before getting one of his keens up the stretcher beside Ryan’s hip, then the other one. Naked is something that doesn’t seem to make Brendon uncomfortable, and it shouldn’t, because it looks great on him.

    “You have no idea how much I wanted this.” Brendon confess in a whisper, taking the silver packaging from his lips and touching Ryan’s with his own, placing his hands on Ryan’s chest and making him move so he lies on the stretcher. “Since you came through that door. Since you were fooling around with me in that bar.” He says, sliding his mouth down Ryan’s neck, the going up to hide his nose in Ryan’s hair behind his ear. “I had to go to the restroom right when you left. I almost break my cock thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you.” He groans, pressing his hips against Ryan’s, letting him feel how hard he is before fitting Ryan’s still covered cock and his ass together, rolling his hips. Ryan moans hoarse and digs his fingers in Brendon’s hips, looking for his mouth to bite his bottom lip because he’s obsessed with doing it since he saw Brendon getting out of that cubicle at the nightclub.

    “And here I was, thinking you didn’t want to fuck me.” He jokes, or not so much. He feels the electricity running up his spine with every roll of Brendon’s hips, making him arch and move his hips at Brendon’s pace, feeling Brendon’s ass against his cock and getting desperate. He breathes choked in Brendon’s mouth and he kisses him again, short, moving his open hands from his hips to his back, feeling Brendon’s muscles contract with each movement.

    “Is there anyone who doesn’t want to fuck you?” Brendon asks with half a smile, rubbing with him a little more before resting his elbow near Ryan’s head and lowering his other hand to grab him again under the fabric, making Ryan close his eyes and open his mouth in a gasp, arching to look for more.

    “Good.” He breathes, the urgency burning his skin. He can hear his own heartbeat echoing inside his head and the sound that escapes his throat when he drags his fingers along Brendon’s back, going down, down, down until he gets to the place where those dimples are, opening his fingers to lower a little more and cover his whole butt cheeks, squeezing. “Fuck.”

    Brendon groans and bites his mouth, kissing him one last time before leaning back, pulling Ryan’s cock out of his boxers, pushing them down just enough and using his free hand to grab the condom and ripping the packaging apart with his teeth, rolling it down Ryan’s cock with expert fingers before placing himself on top of it. He teases a little first, or maybe he’s just playing with him, trying to get Ryan a little crazier before letting himself fall, closing his eyes and biting his lips as Ryan has seen him do a thousand times before. Brendon digs his fingers on Ryan’s shoulder while he slides down, slow, tight, and Brendon pants when he’s just half way through, looking at Ryan and letting out a little laugh, trying to relax.

    Ryan looks at him with his lip between his teeth and his eyes wide open almost completely black, tightening his hands on Brendon’s ass cheeks and gathering all of his strength to not thrust with his hips, mostly because he doesn’t think he could fit in anyway. It’s like Brendon’s strangling him from the inside, burning him, and Ryan looks at him divided between surprised and so turned on, because Brendon didn’t even prepared himself first, he didn’t even use lube or anything like that, using just the own condom lubrication. And this is going to be difficult, this is going to hurt, but Brendon doesn’t seem worried about that and that’s making Ryan lose the last bit of sanity he had left.

    “You’re… oh, God.” Ryan moans, leaning back his head to look at the ceiling, looking for something to bring him back his mental health right now while his ears are ringing and his mouth is drying, his whole body tensing up with the waves of pleasure.

    Brendon nods, as if he knew what Ryan meant to say exactly, as if he could read his mind. He nods and licks his lips, leaning in again and changing the angle, winning a few inches in and groaning from his throat. He arches his back and pushes down, his hand holding Ryan’s cock from the base. And he could stay like that, he’s almost all the way down and Ryan would understand, he’d understand that’s Brendon’s limit, but Brendon doesn’t seem satisfied with that. Brendon wants it all. Ryan’s going to lose his mind.

    “Fuck. I never had to…” Brendon cuts his sentence with a groan, buffing when he moves up, letting Ryan slide completely out of his body. He releases Ryan’s cock just to bring his hand up and spit on in, using it as lubrication coating Ryan’s erection with it fast before fitting it inside him again, this time with just a thrust, this time all the way down.

    “Good God, Brendon.” Ryan groans, digging his nails on Brendon’s skin and feeling the wave of adrenalin running through him from where Brendon tightens him so hard al the way up the nape of his neck. Ryan lets one of his hands crawl up Brendon’s back to grab his neck to reach his mouth, breathing as if he just finished running a marathon. “You’re crazy.” He pants before covering Brendon’s mouth with his own in a forceful kiss, pushing his tongue between Brendon’s lips, opening them for him, his moves rude and eager, as if he couldn’t get enough of Brendon’s taste. He kisses and licks and bites all at once and nothing whole, moving away seconds apart just when he feels like fainting due to the lack of oxygen.

    Brendon laughs against his mouth and nods and keeps kissing him, using his now free hands to touch him everywhere, Ryan’s arms, chest, shoulders, face, he tangles his finger on Ryan’s hair and holds him hard in place while he bites his mouth. He moves whole, his hips rolling and his back arching, his legs tense supporting the rhythm and the rest of his skin wanting to touch every possible inch of Ryan. Brendon licks his lips and bites them when he moves away, looking at Ryan’s eyes.

    Brendon likes sex, he enjoys it like there’s nothing better in this world, it shows in how he laughs and his skin glows, it shows in how he makes Ryan feel like he’s the best that ever happened to Brendon in his life just for giving this to him, just for sharing this. And Ryan can’t agree more with him, because he likes sex too. He likes seeing it, smelling it, tasting it, and right now Brendon’s a sex delicacy right in front of him.

    He thrusts with his hips because he can’t control his own body anymore, using the hand back on Brendon’s ass to push him, setting the rhythm, his breath coming out of his mouth in short gasps with every thrust. He grabs Brendon’s hair with his other hand, sliding his fingers between the locks, grabbing hard, holding him there and pulling back to make Brendon expose his neck so Ryan can take his mouth to that sweet Adam’s apple, leaving wet kisses in certain spots, biting and dragging his teeth then, sticking out his tongue to press it against the vein there and feel Brendon’s pulse against it.

    Brendon responses gasping, moaning, pushing with his hips to meet Ryan’s, adjusting himself to the pace, reacting to every little thing Ryan does. That Brendon likes to talk is nothing new, so Ryan didn’t expect him to be different during sex. What he didn’t expect either was what his voice could do to him in that context, the way he demands and praises him at the same time, those ‘yes, like that, don’t stop’, those ‘God, that’s so good’, the string of swears coming out of his mouth, his murmurs, his gasps, and the delirious way those ‘Ryan Ryan Ryan’ abandon his lips.

    When Brendon looks back at him, or not when he looks at him, but when he _sees_ him, when Brendon’s eyes focus and the image of Ryan appears complete on his retina, he laughs and shakes his head no as if he couldn’t believe what he’s witnessing. He kisses Ryan again, hard and eager, groaning while he doesn’t stop moving, but he doesn’t close his eyes this time. He looks at Ryan, he keeps looking at him, like he didn’t want that image to erase from his memory ever.

    Ryan’s so far gone that he feels like the air in the room is not enough to provide his lungs the oxygen they need to keep going with this, looking at Brendon back with his eyes fixed on Brendon’s, and a focused look on his face that mixes with pleasure every time a new electric shock runs through him. And, right now, in this very moment he would pay a fortune to be in a wide enough bed to flip them over, push Brendon against the mattress and fuck him until he forgets his own name, letting himself go, releasing the adrenalin and energy building up in the lower part of his belly, in his arms, making him hold on tighter, groaning from his chest.

    “Ryan.” Brendon calls, his voice filled with an alarm tone at the same time that he moves one of his hands to bring them between their bodies, grabbing his own cock, his pants coming out faster. “ _Ry._ ” He repeats with urgency, biting his mouth hard and holding himself on Ryan’s body to stroke his cock at the same pace that his hips follow. Ryan uses the grip in Brendon’s hair to take him close to his mouth again, covering up the skin of his neck with it, licking before closing his lips and sucking, groaning hoarse and digging his fingers on Brendon’s ass cheek, holding him so tight his whole arm tenses up, his hips thrusting deeper and harder.

    It’s like he was ripping the air out of Brendon’s lungs with every thrust, his soul out of his body, his orgasm out of his throat. Because when he comes, he does it like that, breaking apart and spilling out all over Ryan, moaning desperate and groaning like Ryan was squeezing him inside out. Brendon’s not the most manly person in the world, but when he comes, he does it like and animal, primitive and savage, scratching and biting Ryan because it seems like he wants to crawl out his own skin to get inside Ryan’s. Ryan feels it in every cell of his body, how Brendon tightens around him and tears him apart, leaving marks all over his body, making the heat grow higher, his muscles contracting and his senses clouding.

    The orgasm builds up in his lower belly, chocking him and accelerating his heartbeat. And he can feel it with every little touch of his skin against Brendon’s, so close his legs are shaking and his ears are ringing. In a fast movement Ryan doesn’t even know how he’s able to make, he gets down the stretcher, holding Brendon’s waist and sliding out of his body making him groan, his legs shaky when he stands up. He turns Brendon around when he’s stable, pressing their bodies together and pushing Brendon down with a hand on his back to make him set his own on the stretcher, opening his legs and grabbing his own cock from the base to get back inside Brendon’s body. Brendon groans again and mumbles a swear, holding tight on the edge of the stretcher but meeting Ryan’s hips with his own, wanting it.

    Ryan moves automatically, loosing control of his body, panting with every thrust, moaning. He holds Brendon’s hips with a hand and moves up the other one across his stomach, his chest, to hold his neck and press his own chest against Brendon’s back, breathing behind his ear. His sight gets blurry on the edges, and his hips stutter, and he just needs a few more thrusts losing his rhythm to feel the climax exploding right in the center of his body, ripping a hoarse long moan from his throat, tensing up his muscles to leave them shaky a second later. He comes burying his nose in Brendon’s hair, emptying himself inside the condom, letting himself fall a little over Brendon when his body starts to fail on him, holding himself on the stretcher with the hand he used to hold Brendon’s hip.

    He stays there when he feels there’s nothing more inside him, his muscles twitching sporadically, his breath fast starting to return to normal while the beat of his heart echoes inside his head. Brendon moves and, for a moment, it seems like he wants Ryan to get off him, but he just raises his head, rubbing his cheek on Ryan’s face and laughing heavy and limp before kissing Ryan where he can reach. Ryan uses the hand still on Brendon’s neck to turn around his face looking for his mouth, kissing him properly as deep as the first one they shared, but dragged and slow, almost too tired to do it faster, moaning exhausted in Brendon’s mouth.

    “Mmm…” Brendon closes his eyes, smiling a little and trying to stabilize the sound in his throat before speaking. “You’re still inside.” He says, laughing with no strength at all, opening his eyes again to look at Ryan and smile wider. Ryan laughs too, tired, rubbing his forehead on Brendon’s shoulder.

    “I am.” He says, placing his hands on Brendon’s hips. “But I’m afraid it’s mine, so you have to give it back.” He jokes, sliding out of Brendon slowly with a hoarse sigh. Brendon burst out a laugh, hiding his face on the stretcher and complaining when Ryan finishes sliding out of him, using his recently recovered freedom to get on the stretcher and lying down there without shame, moaning tired from the bottom of his lungs.

    He gets his hands to his face, pushing his soaked hair out of it and sighing with a satisfied smile. He looks at Ryan and blinks, lowering one of his hands to rest it on his stomach, flexing his knees and resting one of them on the wall. He takes a look at Ryan from head to toe before doing the same with him, laughing through his nose and sliding his fingers along the sweaty skin of his stomach.

    “I think you’re gonna have to let me use the team showers.” He says with a knowing smile. “You can’t let me go home like this.”

    “You seem fine to me.” Says Ryan with a playful smile while he gets rid of the condom and pulls his boxers back in place, bending over to grab his shirt on the floor. Brendon follows his moves with his eyes, turning his head away and looking at the ceiling, making a face.

    It looks like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stays there, looking at nothing and sometimes at Ryan while this one keeps picking up his things. In a moment he makes the same face again, closing his eyes and letting out a laugh, letting his face fall to the side to look at Ryan.

    “Shit. I’m gonna have to come early tomorrow to disinfect the stretcher.” He says, laughing then. Ryan laughs too, looking at Brendon amused whit his unbuttoned jeans on, bare feet and wrinkled shirt. He surprises himself not rushing to get out of there, putting his things in his bag. Usually Ryan is one of those who doesn’t wait for the climax blur to fade before getting out of there and put distance between them. It’s easier that way, less problematic. But, for some reason, he takes his socks and sneakers and sits on the stretcher near Brendon’s feet, putting them on, his movements not faster than an average day.

    “If you’re gonna do that, empty the trash can, too.” He mocks Brendon with no bad intentions, looking at him to smile then.

    “No way, Ross. I’m gonna use that condom to get pregnant so we have a shotgun wedding. You didn’t think you could hit a home run with me and not face the consequences, right?” he says, winking and Ryan and clicking his tongue, snapping his finger. “See? Sports jokes. I’m awesome like that.”

    “You’re getting better.” Ryan laughs, wrinkling his nose. “But you’re jokes are not really good, I’m afraid. The next thing you can do is get interested in hockey and start using hockey idioms for everyday things.” He says, smiling wide and laughing again, looking away from Brendon to tie his shoelaces. “About the condom, as long as you don’t sell it on eBay…”

    “Holy shit! Do they buy those things?” Brendon opens his eyes wide, pretending to stand up to go for it, leaning down back on the stretcher and laughing, looking at Ryan with a smug smile. “For the record, I may be bad telling jokes, but I compensate with being awesome at fucking. So you’re not allowed to complain.” He says, looking at Ryan with half a smile, chewing at his bottom lip then. He frowns for a moment, moving a foot to poke Ryan’s thigh with his toe. “Hey. You’re not gonna be weird with me tomorrow, right?”

    “Why would I?” Ryan shrugs, although that’s a very good question. He doesn’t do these things, he doesn’t stay around to see what happens after, he doesn’t fuck people he already knows, and much less people he has to see almost daily. Truth is Ryan doesn’t know how he’s going to be tomorrow, but he’s too post-orgasmic to think about that.

    Brendon looks at him for a few seconds before making the same face, shrugging too and letting the conversation die there. He doesn’t get up from the stretcher while Ryan finishes, he doesn’t bother picking up his clothes or covering up, he doesn’t look uncomfortable in any moment. He just stays there, looking at Ryan move until he’s ready to leave.

    “Are you going to stay there until tomorrow?” Ryan jokes, hanging his bag over his shoulder. Not knowing when his brain has given the order, he finds himself walking towards Brendon in short steps, resting his hands on the edge of the stretcher and looking at Brendon from head to toe. That picture, right there, Brendon naked and still covered in sweat, lying down and relaxed, makes him lick his lips and smirk. Brendon laughs softly, making a disinterested face but looking at Ryan sideways.

    “Actually, I was gonna ask you to come join me in the shower, but you seemed so decided to put your clothes on…” He shrugs, licking his lips and sighing. “I guess I’ll have to go all alone. In the meantime, I was just enjoying the show, it’s like a backwards striptease.”

    “I can be decided to take them off again, too.” Ryan answers, letting his bag fall on the floor again, feeling his skin starting to prickle and his body reacting to Brendon’s words, letting him know he’s more than ready for a second row. Just looking at Brendon is making him lick his lips, like just an orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy whatever Brendon’s given to him.

    “I’m sorry. I’m one of those who need to see it to believe it.” Brendon explains, his eyes wandering across Ryan before smiling playfully. Ryan laughs and raises an eyebrow, pulling up his shirt to take it off again and using his feet to take off his shoes, looking back at Brendon while he unbuttons his jeans. Brendon grabs him by the loop of his jeans, not letting him take them off. He slips his hand inside them, though, grazing Ryan’s cock with the tip of his fingers, getting so close to him he has to look up to say. “Nice demonstration. You guide.”

    Ryan smiles smug and holds Brendon’s neck with his hand, tangling his fingers in Brendon’s hair to pull his head back and kiss him again, licking the inside of his mouth as if it’s been centuries and not just minutes since the last he did it, pushing him with his body when he starts walking to take Brendon with him. In the way there he breaks the kiss a couple of times so they don’t fall down, crossing the deserted corridor and getting into the locker room. When he closes the door behind him, his breath is already thick and fast, and his jeans starts to bother him.

 

 

 


	4. Tag Up

4.

 

   Ryan needs exactly the time he takes to get in his car and close the door to realize what he’s just done and starting to freak the fuck out. He slept with the team’s physiotherapist, not just once, but two times, and he did it right there in the fucking stadium, where anyone could have seen them, heard them. Patrick. Bob. A teammate. _Anyone_. What the fuck was he thinking?

   He spends the whole way home thinking about it, his whole body overactivating when he thinks about the possibility of someone passing through when they were at the office. They weren’t careful, Ryan didn’t even though about where they were, they didn’t thought about the noise they were making or even closing the goddamn door. Ryan can’t believe he was so thoughtless. After all this time hiding and sneaking around, placing restrictions on himself so he never let anyone even wonder if he could like men too. Ryan’s been so careful for so much time that, suddenly, he feels stupid for allowing himself being that reckless.

    And, on top of that, it’s Brendon the one involved. The same Brendon he will have to see almost daily for months, the same which Ryan has to go to therapy with for God’s knows how long, the same one that goes to party with his teammates, so Ryan doesn’t just see him at work. Ryan doesn’t do this. Ryan doesn’t see again the people he sleeps with. But, with Brendon, he’s going to have no other option.

    The thought makes him feel cornered for a moment, and he’s not sure about what to do, how to act now. Brendon asked him if he was going to be weird with him, and Ryan had said no because that’s what he thought he should say. But the truth is that right now he feels like, if he sees Brendon again, anyone could read everything in Ryan’s face like an open book. As if anyone that looks at them being together in the same room could know what they did. The fear is making his palms sweat and his blood pressure beat in his temples.

    He knows it’s not real, Ryan knows how to pretend that nothing happened when it really has, he can do it. But, for a minute, he feels he can’t step into that office alone with Brendon again. He takes a deep breath a couple of times and closes his eyes, stopping at a traffic light a few blocks from home. No one has to know. No one’s _going_ to know. And Ryan just needs to act as usual, doing nothing suspicious. After all, this is just a one-time thing. It won’t happen again, it can’t happen again even if it was so good. Even if it was one of the best fucks Ryan has ever had. It’s too risky and very unwise. He did it, he broke the tension that were between them almost since the first time they met, so now he could get back to normal, turn the page, look for the next one.

    And that’s what he’s going to do. He can and he wants to do it, this was a one-night stand and nothing else. Brendon probably thinks the same and Ryan’s just complicating things thinking about it. They can be friends, co-workers, whatever, not letting this influence that relationship at all. Ryan doesn’t need to worry, nobody saw them and tomorrow everything will be the same as usual, and he could go back to normal. He’s not going to loose sleep over this.

 

    If the next morning he wakes up with bags under his eyes and yawning every few minutes it has nothing to do with staying the night still considering every detail, not at all. Ryan has made up his mind, today is just another day and he follows his daily routine as if. The dogs gather around his feet when he wash up his face and brush his teeth, trying then to control with his fingers those rebel locks of hair that every morning appear in a different position. Walking the dogs help him clear his mind, even if there’s nothing on it to clear up, of course. He calls Spencer a bit later, just to hear a familiar and secure voice in his ear and head, and they end up talking about meeting up and play a game of one-on-one to bet again on that dinner they never collected before today’s practice.

    “You stayed late yesterday, don’t you? I was waiting for you, but I got bored and left.” Spencer says casually when Ryan’s about to hang up.

    “Oh. Yes. I hurt myself during practice and, you know, the physio took longer.” Ryan answers, feeling grateful for not being face to face with Spencer and his inquisitive gaze that makes it so hard to lie. “The session, I mean.” He clears up unnecessarily, making a face.

    “I thought you left me hanging and went out with him, now that you two are B.F.F.” Says Spencer mocking him, and it doesn’t even makes sense because Ryan didn’t know Spencer was waiting for him, so he couldn’t have left him hanging, but he already noticed at the last party how Spencer didn’t seem to get along with Brendon, so that tone doesn’t surprises him. Spencer’s one of those people who needs to work on jealousy and friendship exclusivity. “I don’t know what’s up with you, man, the first days you ran away when the guys were talking about him.”

    “I didn’t run away because the guys were talking about him.” Ryan lies again, this time more convincing because he can remember how frustrating those days were. “Also, it’s work, man. I spent more time with him because of my thigh and that made me know him more. Something that you could do too, if you weren’t a jealous teenager.” Ryan smiles, knowing Spencer can sense his mocking tone.

    Spencer grunts something with more consonants than vowels that maybe mean something in some other language, but which Ryan understands anyway: if he can’t contradict Ryan, the best thing he can do is grumble. He ends up the talking reminding Ryan the time they would meet in the ice, and he doesn’t say anything else about the previous subject, so Ryan hangs up knowing he won this assault.

    He chooses not to think about the implications of Spencer waiting for him yesterday like he’s done more than once, all of the possibilities of he deciding to go back inside the stadium to look for Ryan instead of going home. He probably had a date with Linda, and Ryan can’t be more grateful for how busy that girl has Spencer. He totally takes back every time he has complained about how she took away his best friend to keep him on a short leash. Now it’s probable that the need of those two being together all the time like a sugary clingy couple was what saved Ryan’s life (or reputation).

    He’d like to say he’s not tense when the time comes and he walks through the door of the stadium, bag over his shoulder and his earbuds on, but he would be lying like a rug. He passes through the lobby, going to the corridor that takes him to the rink, looking everywhere as a paranoiac who thinks he’s being followed and is running from someone. He laughs at himself for a moment, wishing to reach the ice so he can disconnect his brain and just think about the puck and the skates.

    Spencer’s already in the ice with Jeff and Tom, who look like are going to join the pre-practice too, and he raises the arm that holds his stick, making Ryan a sign to come closer. Spencer gets closer too even if Ryan’s already walking towards him, because he’s not known for his patience with Ryan. It’s like the patience Spencer has with the rest of the world cancelled how he is with Ryan. Spencer says it’s because Ryan has try Spencer’s patience so many times he already worn him out. It’s a good argument, Ryan has to admit it.

    “Did you get lost in your way here or what? Go change, we’re gonna kick their butts.” Spencer says, raising his stick to hit Ryan on the shoulder because he can’t reach him with his hand.

    Ryan would answer something equally churl in any other moment, but right now he just nods and walks fast to the locker room. It’s hard to be there and not remember Brendon’s voice echoing in his ears, their bodies sliding together under the hot water, pressed against the tiles, fingers tangled on hair, holding onto each other like their lives depended on it. He shakes his head to get rid of those images and, with a bit of luck, also the sensations.

    He puts on his kit fast, adjusting every pad hard and getting on the rink when he’s still putting on his helmet and the gloves. More teammates are arriving now and, even if Brendon’s stopped coming to the locker room days ago, Ryan doesn’t want to have the sightless possibility of meeting him there. It’s stupid, he knows that, because he’s going to have to see Brendon when practice is over, but his stomach turns just thinking about doing that and he prefers to go to the rink and skate Brendon out of his head.

    He keeps his head absolutely in the game, so much Spencer ends up praising him, and that’s not something he just does. They totally kick Jeff and Tom’s butts, but even the words of encouragement from Spencer and his smile aren’t enough to make Ryan stop feeling that tingling on his skin, the way he feels tense from head to toe. It’s so much so that Ryan doesn’t even left the rink to rest a little when Bob starts the practice, he just keeps going side to side, moving, hitting, defending, skating, long zigzag, short zigzag, emergency stop, final match, everything with the same intensity and concentration. While his head is in the ice, he’s not thinking about Brendon.

    It’s not surprising that he doesn’t even notice when Alex, one of the centrals, has to leave the game before it’s over. When he gets out of the rink he’s exhausted, sweating like an animal and with his sight clouded the moment he seats on the bench. He notices Bob has come closer to him when he’s practically inches away from Ryan, and he takes his helmet off, leaving it at his side and blinking and squinting up at Bob. He pushes his hair back with his fingers, moving his head to the side questioning, waiting for Bob to say something.

    “I was saying you’re gonna have to wait. Johnson pulled a muscle and Brendon’s with him now. Wait here and go next. No skipping it, I’ve got my eye on you.” Bob warns before Ryan can say a word, walking away then and starting to talk with some other teammates.

    Ryan nods even if Bob is totally far away now, feeling how he’s starting to function slower than usual due to the excessive energy he’s wasted during practice. He feels his leg affected when he moves it now that he’s getting cold, and he wants to kick himself for being such an idiot. Now that he doesn’t want to see Brendon at all, the best he can do is fuck up his leg even more so they have to do more therapy sessions.

    At least, now that Alex had to go before him due to urgency, Ryan has time to shower in calm, breath and count to ten, or twenty, relax and repeat to himself a hundred times the same he’s been repeating since he got out of the stadium yesterday. It’s just Brendon, it doesn’t have to be awkward. He’s an expert hiding things and acting like nothing happened, and something tells him Brendon’s not that bad at it either. It doesn’t have to come out wrong, they both wanted what they wanted and they want to keep things as they are. It’s not like Brendon’s going to make a scene because Ryan didn’t call him the next day or anything. They’re both adults, they can cope with this.

    “Do I wait for you outside or are you going to stay late with your boyfriend again?” Spencer asks, and it’s pretty possible that Ryan gets pale and the way his stomach turns reflects on his face, because Spencer frowns and adds. “Dude, I was joking. It’s no big deal.”

    “Do you think I’m loving having to stay here instead of going home and relax?” Ryan answers, drying his hair with a towel briefly. “I can’t go until Alex gets out. Today I’m finishing even later, probably.”

    “I offer you my condolences.” Spencer says, patting Ryan’s back and making a compassionate face, then changing it to a resignation once and turning around, starting to pick up his things and getting out of there.

    The locker room stays in silence when everybody’s gone, and Ryan puts on his earbuds again because he doesn’t have anything else to do. He thinks about going back to the ice for a moment, just putting on his skates and skate around a bit, but he’s just showered and he knows that, the moment he gets there, a few lights laps won’t be enough for him. He doesn’t want to go back to the shower or to have Brendon telling him to go like the first time. He doesn’t want Brendon to talk about showers at all, thank you very much.

    He doesn’t know how long it’s been, he’s focused on his music and falling asleep a little due to the accumulated tiredness, when a hand touches his shoulder and he jumps up like a spring, opening his eyes and pulling down one of the cables of his earbuds. Alex is looking at him, smiling a little guilty.

    “Sorry, dude, for keeping you waiting.” He apologizes, and Ryan makes a face, playing it down. It’s not like he pulled a muscle on purpose. “You can go in now. I’m going home. See you tomorrow, Ross.”

    “See you, Johnson.” Says Ryan, raising a hand and letting it fall later. He sighs when he grabs his things to carry them over his shoulder, walking to the corridor dragging his feet on the floor, letting the tiredness control him and allowing a prickly feeling reappear at the bottom of his stomach.

    When he gets closer to the door, he can see Alex ha left it open, so he doesn’t even have those couple of seconds before opening it to get the courage he needs to turn the doorknob and come in. No, now from where he is, he can already see part of Brendon’s figure, sitting behind his desk, with his glasses on and his brow furrowed while he writes something in one of the files. When Ryan gets to the door, his tiredness has moved to the side and the little pricking feeling is now a bunch of waves crashing into him over and over again.

    Brendon’s finished writing on the file, and now he’s got his forehead pressed against the desk, making whiny noises from his throat that come out weird for how his whole face is squashed against the wood. Ryan laughs before he can notice he’s laughing, and the sound gives away his presence, what makes Brendon raise his head and look at him with his glasses crooked and a surprised face.

    “Hey.” He greets Ryan, opening a little and tired smile, taking off his glasses and leaving them aside, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. “What a day, I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.” He says while getting up his seat, starting to move around the room to go to the usual cabinet. Ryan looks at him moving, hears him talk, pays attention to how Brendon looks at him, and there’s nothing that says there’s something weird between them. It’s absolutely like nothing happened yesterday. It’s almost a little disappointing, if it wasn’t completely convenient. “How do you feel your leg? I think a couple more sessions and you’ll be ready, don’t you think?”

    “Yeah.” Answers Ryan, shrugging, even if he has no idea about how many sessions are necessary to heal his thigh properly. And he’s not counting on how much he has forced the muscle today. Again. He goes to the stretcher when he leaves the bag on the floor, lowering his eyes to his own hands to focus his eyes on something while he unbutton his jeans and take them off, leaving them over the stretcher and sitting there. He tries not to think about how yesterday he was in this exact position, with Brendon between his hands and Brendon’s under his underwear. He tries.

    “Do you want to lie down or stay like that?” Asks Brendon, getting closer to the stretcher and rubbing his hands together, cracking his knuckles and then his neck, moving his head one side and the other. “It doesn’t make a difference, really.”

    “However you’re more confortable.” Says Ryan, shrugging again, but moving before Brendon can say anything. He lies down just because he’s so tired it’s difficult for him to stay straight. And, maybe, because that way he can look at the ceiling easily and don’t distract himself looking at other places.

    Brendon nods and gets closer to the side of the stretcher near the injured leg, picking up the lotion tube and warming up a bit of it between his fingers before getting at work with Ryan, starting to massage just like that. He frowns, pressing with his fingers and raising an eyebrow, continuing the massage but looking at Ryan when he speaks.

    “Was Bob hard on you guys again?” He asks, pressing with his hands in certain spots, as if he wanted to show Ryan why he’s asking. “You’re really hard today.”

    Ryan can’t help but look at him and raise an eyebrow, unable to control the laugh that comes out. With it, a little bit of tension releases too and, just like that, he takes a deep breath and exhales when he stops laughing, telling to himself that he’s being an idiot and that, clearly, everything is normal, as usual. Brendon’s acting like it is, and that’s what he wants, so there’s no need to be tense.

    “No, no.” He says seconds after a moment where he wonders if he should make a joke about what Brendon just said or not. “I’ve been a little… too dedicated on the rink, so to speak.”

    “I see.” Brendon makes a face, laughing sideways then while he keeps doing his thing. “It’s my duty to tell you to take things with a little more calm until you’re fully recovered and then be as much dedicated as you want to, but maybe it’ll be a little hypocrite of me. Anyway, it’s not that bad. It doesn’t hurt if I do this, right?” He asks, searching with his fingers and pressing.

    “Not much.” Answers Ryan, looking at Brendon working on his thigh, feeling how his muscles mold and relax under his hands the moment he touches him. “Feels a little weird. But hurt, no.”

    “Awesome, then.” Brendon smiles at him short one last time before looking back to what he’s doing, focusing completely on the thigh and working it correctly. He doesn’t say anything else and the silence between them feels a little weird, not uncomfortable, but weird. Ryan’s not used to not hearing Brendon talking all the way through the session.

    He takes advantage now that Brendon’s focused on his work and observes his features, the way the line of his jaw seems sharper, as if he was clenching it a little, how his lips are furrowed, the same as his brow, paying absolute attention to the way his hands moves around Ryan thigh. His skin seems a little paler that usual, or maybe is the way the light make it contrast with the dark circles under his eyes. Brendon said he was going to sleep like a baby tonight, and now that Ryan looks at him closer, he does look exhausted. Even his hair, which usually looks soft and full of life (and Ryan could confirm it with his own hands), now looks like it’s seen better days.

    “You look tired.” Says Ryan suddenly because, usually he’s fine with silences, but near to Brendon they don’t fit well, like if it were wrong being there with no sounds at all.

    “Yeah?” Brendon asks, laughing a little and nodding when he shrugs, his eyes still on Ryan’s thigh. “I am. It’s been a long day, and last night…” He moves his hand in the air before returning it to Ryan’s leg. “I have the feeling that I’m back doing practices in college, that, if I don’t pay attention to how I’m working, I might end up making a mess, have you amputate your leg or something.”

    “I liked you not to do that.” Ryan says, making a serious face but totally joking. “I need it, you know?” He adds, looking at Brendon closely and biting the inside of his lips for a few seconds when they stay in silence again. “You could go, if you want. I won’t say anything if you don’t say anything.” He says, smiling short. He surprises himself when he realizes he’s not saying it because he wants to skip this session, but because he really wants Brendon to go to rest.

    “I’m afraid your leg would tattle on us.” Brendon laughs, looking at him for a second before turning his gaze away. “And no, anyways, this doesn’t work like that. This goes like I am the one who says when it’s over, and you follow the rules. I do my job well so you can do your job well. That way everybody’s happy.”

    “As you wish.” Says Ryan, raising the palms of his hands to surrender. “It was just a suggestion for you to go home sooner.”

    “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Says Brendon, playing it down shifting his head. “Thanks, anyway.”

    Brendon stays in silence once more, raising a hand and rubbing one of his eyes with the back of it, placing it back on Ryan’s thigh with a little inaudible sigh. He must be really tired, because it’s weird for Brendon to be so concise in his conversations, not making words out of silence, not turning any little interaction into a full conversation.

    “You go home when we’re done, anyway, right?” Ryan keeps up with the talking, not really knowing where does he want to go with it. It wouldn’t hurt if Brendon behaved as usual and talk to him with something more than short sentences. Seeing him like that is making Ryan nervous, as if something went wrong. Ryan wants to fix whatever it is. “We’ll finish soon. And you’ll be home right away.”

    “Well, yeah. More or less.” Brendon laughs, raising an arm and pushing up his sleeve with his chin, taking a look at his watch, squinting and getting closer to it because he left his glasses on the desk. “Yeah, we’re almost over.” He nods, getting back to massage Ryan with both hands. “With a little bit of luck I can catch the Green Line on time. It’s late, so there won’t be a lot of people in the street to bump into on the way there.” Brendon laughs.

    “Do you take the train to go home?” Asks Ryan, surprised even if his voice doesn’t show it. Maybe Brendon was one of those who can’t stand traffic and preferred public transportation, but Ryan doesn’t know anybody like that in this city. It wouldn’t be weird, anyway, for Brendon to not do the same as the rest of the world. Ryan’s beginning to understand that’s his trademark.

    “How would I go if I didn’t?” Brendon asks, shrugging and laughing a little, starting to use both hands to treat the muscle in a way Ryan recognizes as the end of the session.

    “Oh.” It’s the only thing Ryan says, guessing that Brendon doesn’t have a car from his words. He has no idea where Brendon live, but anywhere it is, it’s impossible he would get there sooner using the Green Line instead of a car. Ryan’s own house is almost 20 minutes from the stadium by car, he doesn’t want to think about how much time it would take to get there by train, also after having the hard day Brendon seems to had.

    “So, that’s it.” Brendon finishes the massage, rubbing his hands together again and looking up to Ryan with a smile, moving off then and going to the sink that’s there, starting to wash his hands. “You’re free to go. I think two more sessions and you’ll be ready. It would have been just one, but you decided to be “too dedicated”, so…” He says, drying his hands with a few paper towels, throwing them in the trash then.

    “Sorry.” Ryan smiles, making a face. He gets up the stretcher and takes his jeans, starting to put them on and feeling how his body’s heavy and his muscles are tired. While he does, he can’t stop thinking about Brendon’s words, imagining how would it be to take a lot more time now to get home. He watches Brendon getting his casual clothes from his locker while he buttons his jeans. “Do you live near here?”

    Brendon looks at him for a moment, leaving his clothes over the desk. He looks at Ryan the way he did that time when Ryan asked him if he had worked with hockey players before, only, this time, the stare lasts longer. It’s like he didn’t understand the question and was trying to assemble it in his head, like he had to look for the answer in a deep drawer of his brain he was too lazy to get his hands in. Brendon licks his lips and chews the bottom one, looking back at his clothes and taking the dark t-shirt.

    “Not that near, no.” He answers, unfolding the t-shirt and leaving it over the seat before grabbing his coat from the collar to take it off. “Uh. You don’t mind, do you?” He asks, talking about him undressing and getting dressed right there. Ryan can’t say he minds, really, that wouldn’t be the right word. So he just shrugs, making a gesture with his hand for Brendon to keep going, biting his tongue to not say the ‘I won’t see anything I hadn’t seen before’ that crosses his mind. Brendon nods, pulling out the coat over his head and leaving it aside to put on the t-shirt.

    “I can take you home.” Ryan says suddenly, watching, staring even, Brendon movements as he changes clothes. Brendon laughs out loud then, a sincere one, right from his chest, shaking his head and smiling while he pushes down his pants, stepping out of them and taking the jeans over the desk. Ryan doesn’t look at his ass in the whole time. Not at all.

    “Thank you for the offer.” Brendon answers, taking off his shoes with his feel and leaning on the desk to put on his jeans, jumping to make them pass up his butt. “But I don’t think you’ve though that well enough. I live pretty far from here, Ryan. It’s not worth it, really.” He says, making a move with his hand, getting back to put on his shoes with his jeans still open, walking then behind the desk to turn the computer off and push his working clothes inside a little backpack. “If it’s for me, you don’t have to worry, really. I do this everyday, and I will get on time. I have this.” He says, moving his leg behind the desk and making a skateboard appear from one of the sides, stepping hard one of the ends to grab it from the other, making Ryan raise his eyebrows and laugh short, surprised. “I’ve got everything in control.”

    “You’ll get there sooner.” Ryan says grabbing his bag over his shoulder before crossing his arms and walk to the door, looking at Brendon with a face that lets him know he hasn’t changed his mind. Ryan can be a stubborn if he wants to. “I have to drive anyway, it’s nothing. Also, it’s on my way home.” He says, even if he doesn’t know at all where Brendon lives, and knowing Brendon’s aware of this. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

    “It’s on your way home?” Brendon asks, laughing like he can’t help it, and this time it sounds fresh, and it seems like his face lightens and his dark circles fade. Brendon gets on the skate, using his foot to thrust towards the door, stopping right in front of Ryan. He sighs before speaking. “Ryan. I live in Washington Park.” He says, his voice lowering a bit, making a twist with his lips. “I don’t think… First of all, I highly doubt it’s on your way home, but, also, I don’t think it’s a good idea for someone of… _your status_ to go there.” He says, using his hand to point at him whole. Ryan frowns, snorting.

    “My what?” He says, laughing and shaking his head. And there’s a part of him that wants to ask why does he live there, in one of the most dangerous areas of Chicago. But, on the other side, he doesn’t think Brendon wants him to ask. It can’t be because of the money, because Ryan knows Cassie earned her good money, and it’s impossible that Brendon earns any less, so there should be another reason. “I have a few sticks in the trunk, don’t worry. And it’s not that far from my house. So, it’s done.”

    Brendon looks at him and opens his mouth to say something, to reply, but something in Ryan’s face seems to make it clear that it won’t be possible to make him change his mind this time, so Brendon just grunts and shakes his head, smiling a little when he pushes Ryan out of the office, him getting out too to lock the door.

    “Whatever.” He says in the end, a bit of sarcasm in his voice, looking at Ryan sideways and laughing. “And I am the crazy one…” He comments, puckering his lips as the sentence comes out of them and turning his head not fast enough so Ryan can’t see the wave of color that goes up his cheeks, propelling himself with his foot and rolling a few feet ahead of Ryan. Ryan stares at him for a moment and then looks away, remembering the exact moment he told Brendon he was crazy. It’s not like he’s going to forget about it ever in his life, it’s a fixture in all his senses. He decides to ignore everything that’s going through his mind and smile victorious, walking behind Brendon out of the stadium and towards the parking lot.

    “If you can live there, I’m sure I can drop you.” He says, raising his voice a little so Brendon can hear him, making him turn around with the skate, lifting an eyebrow while he keeps going backwards. “I am stronger than I seem. I’m the son of a soldier. No one messes with me.”

    “I bet they don’t.” Brendon laughs, looking back sometimes to make a turn in the right moments, showing an unsuspected agility with the skate. “And, with all due respect to your father, anyone can be a soldier. If you give a gun to a kid, he can kill too, you know? You don’t have to be very strong to pull a trigger.”

    “I didn’t say it because of the strength. When you grow up with one, you learn how to not be scared easily.” He explains, shrugging and pointing with his finger to the car parked a few meters ahead of them so Brendon knows where to go. “Be a man and all that shit. Apparently, not being scared seems to be one of the things a soldier is more proud of. Or my father, at least.”

    “Be a man. I get it.” Brendon murmurs, making a face before changing the direction of the skate, sliding to Ryan’s car and making the skate jump to get a hold of it, letting it under his arm and waiting for Ryan. “Do I leave it on the trunk or can I carry it in the front?”

    “You can take it in the front, I don’t mind.” Ryan answers while he presses the key button that opens the car, the lights flickering a couple of times. He opens the back door to leave the bag there before he goes to the driver’s door and gets in the car. Brendon gets into the front passenger seat, leaving the skate and his bag at his feet, getting comfortable and buckling the seatbelt as he looks around.

    “I like your car.” He says then, smiling when Ryan turns on the gear, starting to get out of the parking lot. “Let us hope tomorrow it still has the four tires intact.” He jokes, laughing and touching the dashboard, moving so he can see the control panel better, making a satisfied sound with his throat. “I was gonna say maybe someday I’d like to have one of these, but my brain has been capable of rate the idea as impossible before the thought became words. I am not even going to ask how much it cost you because I prefer not to fall asleep crying tonight.” He says between laughs, looking at the road as they leave the stadium, moving his head to take a look through the window and twisting his lips. “I’m sorry I can’t give you directions, I’ve never come here by car.”

    “It’s cool, I know how to get there. Somewhere close, at least. You can guide me from there.” He says to Brendon, looking at him for a moment and smiling before he looks back to the road. “If it survives tonight with the four tires intact, I’ll let you drive it someday. If you want to.” Ryan says, smiling again but not turning his eyes away from the traffic.

    “Deal.” Brendon answers quickly, smiling satisfied then. “Actually, you’re going to get away with it because you’re not going to park, so you’re probably safe. I’ll tell you what day is it good for me so you can lend me the car.”

    Ryan laughs and looks through the rear-view mirror before he drives to the left lane, looking at Brendon with a lifted eyebrow for a moment when he’s situated and confirms he has no one in front.

    “You can do it the next time I take you home.” He says triumphant, looking forward without waiting for an answer from Brendon. “You drive it, directly. That way I can ride shotgun in my own car, I’ve never done that.”

    “Next time?” Brendon asks, turning his head to look at Ryan, his fascination for the car staying in the background. “Are you planning of injuring any of your teammates in the next two practices or are you going to make me miss the L on purpose?” He laughs as he asks, probably not thinking about the implications that the last part of the question can have. Maybe it’s just that Ryan sees double meanings on everything, lately.

    “Why getting home in God knows how much time when you can do it in half an hour, top, if I drive you? Also, we’ve already seen it’s on my way home.” Says Ryan with a mocking smile. “It makes no sense for you to get back by train.”

    Brendon keeps looking at him without saying a thing, and this time is not like the last one. This time he looks at Ryan straight on, not like he were trying to decipher his words but like he were trying to decipher him. He blinks a couple of times before he looks to the front again, still silent, lowering his head and looking at his hands, with which he plays writhing his fingers while he pulls on his lip with his teeth.

    The silence that grows between the two of them is overshadowed by the music that’s playing low on the radio, which was turned on automatically as soon as Ryan started the car. It’s not an awkward silence because it’s not really a silence, and it doesn’t break again until a while later, when Ryan is already on the highway.

    “Where do you live?” Asks Brendon suddenly, and it’s not the question Ryan was waiting at all, if he was waiting for any question in particular.

    “The Loop.” He answers simply, looking at the road casually, like he hasn’t given himself away just because and contradicted what he has just said about being on his way to home. Even not looking at Brendon, he can feel how Brendon’s eyes grow big.

    “ _Ryan_.” He says his name sounding divided between scandalized and incredulous. “Why would you prefer to take almost an hour to arrive home when you can be there in ten minutes going straight from the stadium?” He asks with a tone that takes for granted that anything Ryan can say is stupid, like there were no reason good enough to justify what he’s doing. Ryan shrugs because he doesn’t really have a ~~n~~ specific explanation. He just thinks it’s a nonsense Brendon has to catch the train when they leave from the same place and Ryan has a car.

    “It is nonsense you catch the train.” He says with no more explanation and looking at Brendon sideways. Brendon keeps looking at him with huge eyes and he seems to understand nothing now, not what Ryan’s saying, nor what he’s doing, or Ryan in general. He blinks slowly when he does, like he were getting back the capacity to function, as if what Ryan’s just said had let him lethargic, in shock.

    “Thank you.” The voice comes out a little strange when he talks, but it’s still Brendon and he doesn’t take long before he laughs letting out the air through his nose, looking down at his hands again and raising his eyes then to the front, looking at the road.

    “The next tequila it’s on you and we’re even.” Ryan answers with a crooked smile, starting to drive into a zone he knows it’s close to Washington Park and waiting for Brendon’s indications.

    “Just a shot. Tequila and I don’t make a good combo.” Brendon laughs, looking back like he was remembering something, looking out then and pointing to a detour. “You can take that road and drop me at the university. I can go home alone from there.”

    “I’ll leave you at your door, now that I’m here.” Says Ryan, with little room for any debate. Brendon twists his mouth but doesn’t try to reply.

    “Turn there, then.” He explains, pointing with his hand. Ryan nods and turns where Brendon told him, driving into a street narrower than the previous one and without traffic. Brendon doesn’t say anything more, except when he tells Ryan to turn somewhere or change direction. He seems a little tense, the relaxed position that he had had until now changing and leaving his back straighter, his eyes constantly on the road and streets.

    Ryan can’t help but feel a little bad for offering to drive him here because it seems like, the closer he gets to know certain things about Brendon, the tenser and alert he gets. Maybe he doesn’t want Ryan to see exactly where he lives. Brendon seemed extremely secretive when it came to his personal life, Ryan remember how Brendon asked him not to give his phone number to anyone, also his attitude when he gave it to Ryan wasn’t like it was nothing, either, it almost looked like he was doing an effort.

    Brendon makes him wonder a lot of things but, mostly, Ryan is curious to know what is it that makes Brendon put a distance so noticeable between his life and the people around him, although they are part of said life one way or another. He wonders why he’s so friendly but says so little, why he talks with everyone but no one seems to be a confidant, why he lives in a neighborhood where you can come across a shooting when you’re going to the grocery store, if his salary could allow him something better.

    He doesn’t say anything, not even ask about it. Ryan is the kind of person that, however much curious he is, he prefers not to interfere in issues he’s not been invited in, unless he finds himself getting into them unaware of it by saying something improper. Which used to happen more often than he would like. He guesses Brendon has his reasons and he’s not one to judge the way someone lives. He would have liked to see another thing, that’s for sure, finding a nicer, welcoming, friendly place, happier. More like Brendon. Washington Park had that grey, mournful, bitter atmosphere that gives off fear and constant alert. Brendon seems so out of place there.

    “It’s here.” Brendon’s voice sounds out of nowhere, looking at Ryan expectant, pointing then at an apartment block that rises on the right in front of them. It’s a relatively high building, nothing compared with the ones you can find at the financial district where Ryan lives, but quite a few floors. It’s old, Ryan can see it in the architecture, the façade of bricks and the careless appearance because of the years. It’s fenced, with iron bars and bushes around; it even has an entrance that used to be nice for sure some time ago, with a little grass and some trees.

    Ryan stops the car right at the entrance and looks around discreetly, thinking automatically about his own house in The Loop, so different, looking like a whole different world from what he’s seeing through his car’s window. Car that looks as out of place as an ostrich in a beauty contest. When he looks at Brendon again, he smiles, taking his hands away from the wheel and letting them fall down over his thighs.

    “Your trip has ended for today, then.” He says, and Brendon returns the smile, huge, looking away and twisting his mouth, nodding. He moves his hand to grab the door’s handle but he doesn’t open it yet.

    “It’s not that bad, actually.” He says, like he was justifying himself, like he had something to justify for. “It’s well taken care of on the inside, and it’s not very big but it has everything one person needs. From the back window you can see the tracks, you see the train and people and…” He closes his mouth when he looks at Ryan again, letting out a sound from his throat and leaving the sentence hanging in the air, like he has just realized that he is talking too much. Ryan stares at him closely, talking almost before Brendon finishes, with a serious tone.

    “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Bren.” He says, shrugging and looking out the window near Brendon at the building, looking back at him again. “It’s your house. If you’re good here…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he moves his hands in a way that says it is more than enough, looking right at him and his reaction. Brendon listens to him carefully, paying attention to Ryan gestures before nodding again, blinking for a moment and looking down.

    “Okay.” He says, looking out the window at the building and then at Ryan. “Thank you for the ride.” He says, this time opening the door.

    “You drive next time.” He answers, smiling and waving his hand goodbye. “See you.”

    Brendon looks at Ryan’s hand, smiling crooked and waving back before taking his things, getting out of the car and closing the door, leaving the skate on the floor and getting on it to slide towards the fence, putting out his keys and opening the gate. Ryan looks at him while he goes in until the door is closed, and brings his hands back to the wheel, taking his senses back to the road to restart the way to his house.

    While he drives, he recalls the last few hours in his mind and he thinks it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He went into Brendon’s office nervous because he didn’t know what to expect, but everything had been normal, even during the way to Brendon’s house it hadn’t been any tense moment or awkward and unnecessary conversations. They didn’t even mention what happened between them the previous day. Not directly, at least. And, with the passing of time, Ryan had found himself more relaxed in his presence, like nothing really happened.

    That makes him think that maybe it isn’t that catastrophic as he had thought on the first place, sharing some working hours with Brendon, seeing him daily. In fact, today they had been like Ryan could be with any other friend and, as the days come by and they get away from the previous day, it’ll be easier to keep acting without giving it more importance than it really has. Ryan can do that. He doesn’t have to complicate himself like he’s been doing until now. Everything is simpler, everything is, in fact, as always has been.

    The way back home is faster than Ryan would have expected, maybe because he’s pleased with how he day with Brendon turned out or maybe because is later than usual and there is a lot less traffic in general. The truth is that Ryan arrives fast and content, thinking about Brendon’s face when he said he could drive the car the next day and knowing he’s going to enjoy that just seeing Brendon enjoying it.

    It reminds him a little of the first time he drove a car, one that his father had repaired. Not for him, but he let him drive it when Ryan showed some interest in driving. He felt more euphoric and happy seeing his father what seemed a little proud of him than driving for the first time. It was one of those moments he remembers he had a kind of connection with his father, connection he guesses everyone feels with a father who acts like one. Ryan didn’t feel it often, just when they went to see a hockey match or Ryan wanted to do anything masculine. He wasn’t one of those kinds of things during his adolescence, so those moments were decreasing with the years.

    Still, he will never forget that sensation crawling his chest, like a ball of uncontrollable energy, the smile so big it didn’t fit on his face and the happiness he felt as he saw his father sitting beside him in that car, looking at him with approval although his features were serious, saying that was the first step to become a man.

 

*

 

    What Ryan didn’t think about, and it’s weird because is not something he uses to forget, is Spencer. He hurried to tell Brendon he was going to drive him home from now on not counting with the fact that, before that, there was already someone with whom he went most of times, someone who used to wait for him so they could talk the few miles there were between the stadium and that someone girlfriend’s house. Lately, Spencer used to be more in Linda’s house that his own and, keeping in mind she lived pretty close to the stadium, he left the car there and went to practice walking. It was nothing to wait for Ryan, it was a habit, get in Ryan’s car the two of them and talk about practice, the last match, Spencer talking about how things were going with Linda. Sometimes they even stayed at the girl’s door, talking, sitting on the car sharing a beer that one of them was kind enough to bring for the after-practice.

    Ryan hasn’t thought about Spencer and it’s the first time it happens. That’s why when the physio session is over and Ryan leaves with Brendon, both laughing and joking about how Brendon could kick Ryan out of the car while he drives and escape with it (‘you’ve already seen where I live, you have to be careful with me, maybe I’m part of a gang and you don’t know about it’), the face of the three of them changes as they get to the parking lot’s door. The three of them. Ryan’s, Brendon’s and Spencer’s, who is waiting in the usual place with his bag at his feet and the phone in his hand.

    “Hey.” Ryan says, reacting the first and smiling at his best friend. “I didn’t know you were waiting.” He points with his head to the usual way, waiting for Spencer to get the bag. Actually, it changes nothing that Brendon goes with him in the car. Maybe they can’t stay for too long but that doesn’t mean they can stay for a while. “Are you staying with Linda or are you going home?”

    “I’m going to Linda’s for a while, then home. The car’s there.” Spencer comments, but he doesn’t look at Ryan, he looks at Brendon as he talks, while he gets his bag, his eyes not leaving the boy in any moment. “You have the car here, too, Urie?” Spencer asks, looking down to the skate under Brendon’s feet. Brendon seems to have gone blank, almost as much as the color of his face goes pale. He blinks and stays still where he is, opening his mouth a couple of times before he can actually make a sound.

    “No.” It’s the only thing he says, and he looks at Ryan like he were waiting for him to save him from this somehow, his eyes totally defenseless.

    “I’m driving him home.” Ryan says when he sees him, relocating his bag on his shoulder and starting to walk slowly. “It’s not far from mine and that way he doesn’t have to take the L. You know how it is, the fucking Green Line.”

    Brendon’s eyes grow big with Ryan’s last words and, if it wasn’t impossible because he has a foot on the floor and the other one on the skate, it almost seemed like he was taking a step back. He tightens his bag’s strap with his hand, tensing his jawline when Spencer talks to him once more.

    “The L? Did something happen to your car?” Spencer asks, looking at him with a lifted eyebrow. Ryan looks at Brendon for a moment, noticing in his posture and face that he doesn’t like where the conversation is going. He bites his lip from the inside, feeling a little guilty for talking without thinking, opening his mouth again and hoping this time he doesn’t fuck it even more.

    “He can’t bring it for now.” Says Ryan, sounding so honest he could believe it. Technically it’s not a lie. He can’t bring it because he hasn’t got one, Ryan only decided to leave the reason out, but what he did say is totally true. Brendon looks at Ryan again, this time so surprised that even Spencer has to notice it, blinking like his vision were blurred and he wanted to clear his eyesight. “Hey, did you tell your mom I’m coming over for dinner this weekend?” He asks, remembering suddenly and using it to divert the conversation to himself, his voice tone making it like he wasn’t changing the subject on purpose.

    “Oh. Yeah, and by the way.” Spencer laughs, carrying his bag on his shoulder and starting to walk towards Ryan’s car, Brendon’s issue, and Brendon himself, totally forgotten. “The twins are bringing the boyfriends. My mom told me to bring Linda but it was going to be weird being you there, you know she was going to drive you crazy asking when are you going to introduce her a daughter in law. Poor thing doesn’t know she meets one every time she goes shopping.” Spencer jokes, stopping right in front of the door, waiting for Ryan to open it so he can leave the bag in the back seat. “Besides, I need you to ask uncomfortable question to those guys. It’s gonna be fun.” He comments, opening then the passenger door and getting in the car.

    Ryan looks at Brendon for a moment, wanting to be sure he’s back to normal. Brendon follows them slowly, keeping himself behind, and now he has the skate under his arm. He looks at Ryan but the way he does it’s hard to decipher, so Ryan is not capable to read it. Ryan goes towards the truck and opens it to leave his own bag there, going to the driver’s door then and getting in the car after smiling softly at Brendon.

    “We can be the good cop and bad cop. But with brothers.” He keeps with the conversation with his friend, buckling his seatbelt. “I can be the good brother, but I can’t promise to be totally good. It’s too tempting.”

    “Good? You?” Spencer asks, laughing. “Sure.”

    Ryan only knows that Brendon’s in the car because he hears the door closing, but he doesn’t make any other sound, moving the bag Spencer left there a little so he can sit, buckling the seatbelt and not saying a single word. Probably it’s the most silent Ryan has seen Brendon since… well, ever, actually.

    “I control my temper better than you, that’s for sure.” Ryan laughs, starting the gear and driving off the parking space. “No way you can pass for the good one.”

    “What? Ross, I’m an angel.” Spencer replies, and he laughs then, probably because not even he can believe it.

    They continue with the conversation with a couple of jokes more, Spencer starting to explain a little who are the boys and the little he knows about them from what his mother has told him. They don’t have time for much, if Linda’s house is close by walk, it’s even more by car and, before they know it, Ryan stops the car at the door, laughing when Spencer tells him about one of his ideas to upset his sisters that day.

    “The worst thing is that there are photos of us in that album, too. Do you remember the one in my backyard in Vegas? The two of us naked? It’s in that album.” Spencer says with a sigh. “And yes, I’ve tried to steal it and some others to make them disappear. Impossible. My mom keeps them under lock and key.”

    “That photo will make them lose all respect for us, Spence.” Says Ryan looking at him totally serious. “We can’t allow that.” He stays with his face straight for a few seconds before he smiles big.

    “Bah, actually it could be useful.” Spencer says smiling crooked. “I bet at the age of seven we had bigger dicks that those two together.” He lets out a loud laugh, hitting Ryan’s arm with a satisfied face.

    “I don’t think we can use that against them, dude. Your mom is going to be there.” Ryan comments laughing and shaking his head. “There are some things that, at certain age, can’t be said in front of parents. Or that’s what they say, I wouldn’t know.” He jokes, looking shortly to the car’s clock and back to Spencer, then. “Tomorrow at the same time? I can’t do too much effort, the physio has forbidden it to me.” He says, pointing to Brendon over his shoulder and looking at him for a moment with a smile. “But we can do something.”

    Spencer looks at him like his intention were to keep talking and Ryan had just cut him off, which probably has really happened. However, he doesn’t say anything, just wait a few seconds and nods, smiling at Ryan and opening the door to get out.

    “Tomorrow at the same time.” He says, looking back where Brendon is and reaching out with his hand to get his bag, pulling it out and hanging it over his shoulder. “And don’t listen to the physio. Tomorrow they guys will join us and we have to beat them.” He jokes, moving his head in a gesture before he closes the door and walks towards Linda’s house.

    Ryan sees him go still with a smile on his face, shaking his head. He looks through the rearview mirror a few seconds later, looking for Brendon’s eyes in the silence that has been created in the car.

    “Come to the front.” He says, opening the smile. “You have to get behind the wheel.”

    Brendon seems hesitant for a few seconds, but in the end he opens the door and gets off the car, rubbing his hands against his jeans and waiting for Ryan to get off the driver’s seat and get in his place. The smile, that seemed disappeared since they left the stadium, opens up huge when he gets his hands on the wheel, touching everything after that, looking at every detail, every little button and handle.

    “I love your car.” He says with a nervous laugh. He doesn’t wait for Ryan’s permission or anything, just as they have their seatbelts on, Brendon presses down on the gas pedal carelessly, making Ryan’s back stick to the seat and that the seatbelt holds him a bit later when Brendon slams on the breaks hard, turning the wheel to get off the street where Linda lives and accelerating again fast.

    “Hey, woah!” Ryan says, surprised, grabbing the seat with one hand and the dashboard with the other one, looking at Brendon with huge eyes and feeling his heart on his throat. “Are you in a hurry?” He asks, trying to sound like he’s joking with a laugh but sounding more panicked than anything. Brendon laughs, looking at Ryan and biting his bottom lip a little.

    “I didn’t expect it to be so…” He makes a gesture with his hand, taking his eyes back to the road when he almost runs a red light, stepping on the brakes and making the car behind them horn and let out some insults. “Eh. The truth is it’s been like five years or so since I’ve driven a car.” He confesses, trying to put an innocent face. Ryan’s eyes open up even more, if possible, and he looks between Brendon and the road several times, fearing the light changes to green.

    “Um. What if…? I mean.” He clears his throat and looks at Brendon, and he bets he’s pale because he almost has a heart attack in the three minutes it’s been since Brendon got behind the wheel. “What if you drive it another day in a place where you don’t put at risk the lives of other people? And then I’ll let you drive it, I swear. But it’s just. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He says, laughing and looking at the light again. Brendon laughs loudly, as if Ryan just told him a joke.

    “Don’t worry, this is a piece of cake.” He says, nodding as he looks at Ryan, moving his hand to the gear lever. “Look, I’ll go slower, okay?” He says, and Ryan sees his life passing before his eyes when the light changes to green and he sees where Brendon moves the gearshift. With fast reflex, he grabs Brendon’s hand over the gearshift, shifting it from R to D. “Oh. Ups.” Brendon laughs looking at Ryan now a little guilty while the car behind them gets impatient, ignoring Ryan has just saved their life, or their fender, at least. “Maybe you should drive, yeah.”

    “It’s going to be the best, yes.” Ryan says, letting out a soft laugh and relaxing on the seat, looking back. “Move aside a little here so this asshole can go and we’ll make the change.”

    Brendon does, moving aside on the road, double-parking and putting the lights to change positions. When they are on their original seat, Brendon looks at Ryan with a small smile, making a face. Ryan sighs with his hands on the wheel, the rests of the tension leaving his body, looking at Brendon right after that and laughing.

    “I saw my life go past before my eyes, I swear.” He jokes, or not, because for a moment he thought he wasn’t going to live to talk about it. He makes sure that no one is on the road and goes back to it, his car circulating at a normal speed now that’s in his hands. Brendon laughs and looks at Ryan, shaking his head when he takes his eyes back to the road.

    “It wasn’t that big of a deal…” He comments, laughing and sighing a little. It’s a while later when he talks again, time that he spends looking between the road an Ryan, like he’s deciding if he’s going to talk or not. Ryan prefers not to say anything, letting Brendon take his time. He knows, now by experience, that Brendon doesn’t say things easily, just because, not with him at least. If he’s thinking about saying something to him, it probably is that kind of information that Ryan knows he’s not going to hear in the rink or the locker room with the rest of the guys. “Listen. About before…” He begins, and his tone in more serious. They’re already on the highway and it’s like Brendon had waited so there wasn’t anyone around them, not even strangers walking down the streets. “With Spencer. I’m sorry you had to lie for me.” He says, and Ryan notices how he doesn’t say he shouldn’t have done it, but he’s sorry he had to, like there wasn’t another option.

    “It’s okay.” He answers, looking between the highway and Brendon. “It wasn’t even a total lie. I just said you weren’t going to bring it. That’s true.”

    “Yeah, well.” Brendon smiles, nodding. “I think when I can ‘bring it’ Cassie’s baby will be playing on that rink and she will be back at work.” He jokes, leaving his eyes fixed on the road as he keeps talking. “Actually, it’s more for her than for me, for Cassie, I mean. It’s easier to say what people want to hear and that way they don’t ask questions. When people start to ask questions, then it’s when everything can come to grief.”

    Ryan nods but doesn’t say anything, not getting what Brendon means but not asking anything because, well, he did get that part. Brendon laughs a little, looking at Ryan sideways and chewing at the small threads of dead skin from his bottom lip, sighing when he scratches the back of his neck.

    “Cassie and I have an arrangement.” He says suddenly, letting it out as if he didn’t do it like that he would not do it at all. “She. Well, you know how it is, if she goes and stays for a few months with the baby, a year, whatever, it’s a salary to rest at her household income. A good salary. Jon has a good job and all that, but it can’t be compared with Cassie’s, and now, with the baby, it’s like absurd, right? To get by without that money when they need it the most.” He explains, and Ryan still doesn’t know where this is going. “That’s why she recommended me to cover for her. The club agreed because that way they don’t have to do administrative shit, it figures everywhere like Cassie’s still working. I keep half of the money and the other half is for her. To my university it appears like she took me as a practice voluntary. Ah, well, that.” Brendon gestures with his hand, trying to downplay it like he knows he’s not going to be able to beforehand. “I’m still, eh. I’m still finishing the Master degree. And that’s where everything I earn goes to, that and the loans for the degree and… well. That’s the reason I live where I live and I won’t have a car in a long time.” He concludes, taking in a huge breath and letting it out, looking straight on. “And I don’t know why I just told you all that, but I hope, please, you don’t get mad and tell about it and… that.”

    Ryan looks at him for a moment, turning back his eyes to the road and staying silent for a few seconds. He doesn’t know how to interpret everything Brendon just told him, how different the story is from what it seems, how everyone thinks Brendon’s covering for Cassie when what he’s really doing it’s doing her a huge favor. They’re doing a favor to each other, in fact, and Ryan didn’t know Cassie and Brendon were such good friends.

    “Why would I get mad?” He asks, because he has no reason to do it, really. And, even if he did, something tells him he couldn’t get mad, anyway. “Who knows about it?”

    “Jon. The club’s lawyers. And Bob, I think. Not everything. Bob knows the minimum necessary. He doesn’t know that the only patients I had before you it’s been during practice and supervised by a professional in the university. That’s the reason why you could be mad, by the way. For thinking I was… more.” Brendon answers and, if he keeps biting his lip like that, he’s going to end up ruining it. Ryan lets the information settle on his brain, keeping his eyes on the road. If he were any other person, maybe that would be reason enough to get mad. But Ryan has been working with Brendon enough time to know that he knows what he’s doing. If it weren’t like that, his thigh wouldn’t have gotten better with every session.

    “Cassie wouldn’t have told you if you weren’t prepared to do your job good.” He says to Brendon, looking at him for a moment. “Besides, my thigh is better. I don’t need you to be _more_.” He adds, using the same words Brendon has before, putting on the turn signal and turning right. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t say a thing, I promise.”

    “Thank you.” Brendon answers, and it doesn’t seem like he’s saying it just for the promise about keeping his mouth shut. Brendon stays silent then, letting the minutes go by in silence. They’re almost in Brendon’s neighborhood when he talks again. “Are you like that with everyone or just with me?” He asks, laughing a little, using the same words Ryan used with him that second tense meeting, using the same tone, even. Ryan remembers it, too and he laughs, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and the smile still on his face.

    “Like that, how, exactly?” He asks, turning to get into Brendon’s street.

    “You’re such a sweetheart.” Brendon answers, laughing more after that when he looks away and fixes his eyes on the apartment block. “You’re a sweetheart. I’d had never told the first day I saw you.” He jokes, smiling but not looking at him yet. Ryan laughs softly, surprised by Brendon’s answer, feeling his cheeks getting hotter and the atmosphere of the car changing slightly.

    “Um. Maybe I am just like that with you. No one said that to me before, so…” He replies, laughing again. And he would like to have a bit of dignity when he receives some kind of compliment but it seems like today is not the day to start having it.

    “No one?” Brendon asks, laughing through his nose and looking at Ryan for a moment before returning his eyes to the previous point, touching the handle with his hand but keeping going down until he grabs the armrest, tapping there with his fingers. “Wow, I have to feel lucky then.”

    “Lucky?” Ryan repeats, looking down and bringing one of his hands to his hair, tangling his fingers though his locks in repeated movements while he laughs shortly. “Shouldn’t be me the one feeling lucky because you think that about me?”

    Brendon laughs again and shrugs, his hand squeezing the armrest and staring at how his block gets bigger as they get closer. When he turns his head to look at Ryan, he opens his lips but closes them before any word can come out of them. He shakes his head and laughs more, and now he does hurt his lip, Ryan can see the irritated and raw skin and the blood drawing out slightly.

    “I was going to say I’d buy you that tequila shot to celebrate it, that feeling lucky thing.” He says, making a face then, wrinkling his nose and twisting his mouth. “But we’re on a week night and your thigh is a session away from being like new, I don’t want Bob to ruin that with another one of his punishments.”

    Ryan stops right in front of Brendon’s door once more, feeling in his body how the car’s air seems thicker, heavier. Or maybe it’s him who is starting to find it hard to look away from Brendon’s wounded lip now that he doesn’t have to look at the road anymore.

    “I’d be okay with a beer.” He says, looking at Brendon, being carried along by the first thing that crossed his mind, not thinking about anything else. He can think tomorrow. Brendon twists his lips, thoughtful.

    “Well. That I have at home.” He says, blinking fast then and frowning when he touch the wound with his tongue, shrugging. “Or, I don’t know, I know a place close… Although it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave the car outside. You could leave it in the resident off street parking and we can walk or…”

    “I prefer something quiet.” Ryan says, venturing to press Brendon a little, biting his lip unconsciously because there’s a small voice, probably the voice of reason, asking him from a corner of his mind what the fuck is he doing. “But if you want to go, I don’t mind.”

    “The truth is I just have my Ventra card in my wallet.” Brendon laughs, swallowing and looking out through the window. “You have to park anyway, you’re not going to leave the car on the street. And I have to go up to drop my things, and to get some money, if we’re going out.” Brendon comments, pulling on the wound with his teeth. “You have to go around and go behind. I think I’ve got my permit in my bag.”

    “Okay.” Ryan says, keeping his eyes on him for a moment before he brings his hands back to the wheel and looks forward, starting to drive again to the parking entrance.

    Brendon turns around, unbuckling the seatbelt to move and throw half of his body on the backseat, grabbing his bag and opening it to get his resident parking permit. He explains that the only one who uses his parking spot is Cassie when she comes to visit but it doesn’t happen often. The parking is not very illuminated and Brendon laughs because of all the moves Ryan has to do to park. It’s not like he could do it much better, given what Ryan has seen.

    “There’s no elevator.” Brendon comments as they walk towards the building’s back door. “But it’s okay, you’re in shape, so it’s cool.” He jokes, making a gesture with his shoulders. “It’s not big deal, anyway, just four floors.”

    The inside of the building seems almost as old as his façade. At least the stairs aren’t made of wood, that’s a point in its favor. Brendon explains as they go up that most of the people who live here are students that don’t stay in the campus or young couples. The most of the population in this zone is African-American and Latinos and Brendon says it’s awesome because there’s always music playing somewhere. One of his neighbors, Rubén, is his boxing instructor and another two of them, Reeva and Omar, go to the same department in his university. During the four-floor climbing time, Ryan learns that Brendon knows practically everyone in his building and he gets how it is possible that Brendon’s legs are so toned as he sees him climbing the stairs two by two and talk without losing his breath.

    All the spontaneity and the good vibes Brendon transmitted as they were climbing seems to lower down a little when they get to the right floor. Brendon gets the keys out of his pocket and hesitates a little while he opens the door, pulling on his lip with his teeth a couple of times before he turns the handle and opens the door.

    “ _Mi casa es su casa_ and all that shit. Be right back.” Brendon says, leaving the skate at the door’s corner beside an acoustic guitar and a football ball.

    Brendon adjusts his bag over his shoulder and walks into the apartment, disappearing behind one of the two doors Ryan sees a little on the left. Ryan closes the door behind him, looking around as he takes a few steps into the house. The apartment is small; the two doors the only ones that stop him from seeing the whole house, probably the bedroom and the bathroom. From where he is, right in the middle, he can see the open-concept kitchen to the left, tiny and cozy, with a table and two chairs against the wall facing the main entrance. In front of Ryan is the living room, with a big window, simple curtains, a couch and a television that probably was made when Ryan was born. Just beside him, to his right and close to the door, next to where Brendon left the skate, is a desk with a laptop and a mountain of books that spread all over the desk and the floor.

    It’s not a personal house; it’s obvious it’s rented, with simple and neutral colors, old or cheap furniture, just the minimum necessary, the floor’s wood worn out by the use. The only thing that gives a point of Brendon personality is that corner next to the door and the impossible amount of pictures Brendon has all over the wall on the right, where the desk and the couch are. They have no frame, they’re stuck to the wall with tape but somehow that makes it more original, more creative and showy.

    There are hundreds of pictures, some of them grouped together as a collage, others making figures, others just there, as if Brendon wouldn’t have had time to think about how to put them and he had just leave it for later. Ryan gets closer, watching them closely. Just above the desk there are pictures of the university, adolescent Brendon surrounded by friends, acting like a fool, making faces. There are pictures in the campus, probably while he was getting the degree. Cassie is in some of them and it’s almost weird to see her like that, so young and so not-pregnant. A little to the middle there’s a group of pictures forming a heart shape, and they’re from Cassie’s wedding. Ryan feels a little shocked because Cassie is married, of course, everyone knows that, but Ryan had never really thought about it and now, seeing the pictures, seeing Brendon there with her, with her family, with her husband, it’s like he’s sharing something he’s not allowed to.

    He goes to another group of pictures where there isn’t anyone, just landscapes, cliffs, beaches. Brendon is in some of them with what looks like native people, everyone with huge smiles like they were lifelong friends. Maybe they are, Ryan wouldn’t know, there is a lot of things about Brendon Ryan doesn’t know. He has pictures with animals too; some of them with dolphins, sloths, snakes and a giraffe, but most of them are a group of three cats and a dog with which Brendon seems to have a close relationship.

    “Hey.” Brendon’s voice surprises him and, when Ryan turns around, he’s right there, looking at him with a smile, some of his hair wet from having washed his face. “It was Cassie’s idea. They look great.” He says, talking about the pictures. “If we’re going to go out I have to shower first. If not, you can take a look in the fridge, see if there’s something you like.” He says, pointing to the kitchen with his head. “I don’t have those fancy brands like the ones in the last party, but they’re drinkable.”

    “Beer is beer.” Ryan says, smiling at him and looking at Brendon’s wet locks of hair for a moment, swallowing because suddenly he feels his mouth dry and, yeah, that beer. It sounds good.

    Brendon nods and smiles, walking towards the kitchen and making Ryan notice he has taken off those shoes he wears with the uniform and now he’s barefoot, going to the fridge and opening it, leaning in to get out two bottles of beer. He turns around again to look in the drawer, pulling out an opener to uncap the two of them, leaving the opener and the caps on the counter and walking towards Ryan, giving him one of the beers.

    “Couch?” He asks, pointing to the living room with his head. “Or are you going to drink it standing up?”

    Ryan laughs and moves to the couch, taking a long sip of his beer and sitting on the seat. Brendon follows him, putting his foot on the sofa and almost jumping to sit with his legs crossed, bringing his beer to his lips and grimacing when he takes a sip, probably because the wound must sting. He looks at Ryan and lifts an eyebrow, moving the hand that holds the beer in circles to point around the house.

    “What do you think? I told you it wasn’t that bad.” He comments, bringing his beer back to his lips.

    “It’s cozy.” Ryan says, looking around and trying to think about the house and what he thinks about it. The truth is that he has paid attention, but Brendon distracts him easily. “And it’s good because it’s small but you have enough space for just one person.”

    “That’s true.” Brendon nods, twisting his lips and looking away from Ryan and around the house. “Although having space is treacherous when you’re one of those who don’t like to be alone.” He says, taking a long sip of his beer, shrugging. “That’s why I’m usually with the rest of the guys, normally, at the neighbors’ home, being a pain in the ass.” He laughs, moving the liquid in the bottle. “Or at Cassie’s home. Or at the stadium. And if not.” He says, pointing to the wall of pictures. “They’re with me even though they aren’t, don’t they say that?”

    Ryan watches him closely as he talks, aware that he’s staring, not even blinking, focused on Brendon’s words. It’s just that tonight Brendon has shared more with him than in all the conversations they have had before, and Ryan takes a gulp of his beer just to do something with his mouth.

    “Yeah. That’s what they say.” He says when he swallows, leaning back on the seat and pickling the label of the bottle, laughing when he thinks about something. “Some day I could bring Rat, I’m sure after having her around you’d look at the loneliness with other eyes.” He jokes.

    “Who is Rat?” Brendon asks, and it seems like just the name puts a smile on his face.

    “It’s my dog. One of them, actually.” He explains, looking at Brendon with a smile. “I found her on the street and took her home. I can’t even say what breeds she can be a mix of. I just know that she follows me everywhere leaving a trail of hair all over the house.”

    Brendon’s smile softens as he listens to Ryan, but he doesn’t lose it, drinking from his bottle and nodding with his head.

    “So you really are a sweetheart, after all.” Says Brendon, smiling crooked and looking down at the bottle, shrugging. “And you have a dog named Rat, I don’t think anyone can compete with that.”

    Ryan laughs and looks at the bottle between his hands by reflex, forcing himself to look at Brendon again when he notices, biting his lip.

    “Don’t do that, you’re gonna hurt yourself. I did before, because I’m an idiot, but it’s one of my quirks.” Brendon says, looking for his wound with his tongue and pointing at it with his finger when he finds it. “See? I don’t know if you can see it, but it hurts.”

    “Yeah.” Ryan nods, swallowing a couple of times. “I can’t help it.” He explains but he doesn’t know if he’s talking about biting his lip or something else.

   “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Brendon nods, putting pressure on his wound with his finger and then looking at the little trace of blood it leaves behind on his fingertip, bringing it to his mouth. “They should invent something, like that thing that makes you stop biting your nails. Although is complicated, making something that tastes awful to use it on the lips. No one could kiss you. Kiss anyone who uses it, I mean.” He clarifies a second later.

    Ryan nods, although he’s not really paying attention and he’s stuck in the way Brendon’s finger moved into his mouth, taking a long sip from his beer when he reacts and leaning in to leave it on the floor just beside the couch. He sighs and scrubs his face, his whole body pulling at him to turn and look at Brendon and let himself go, to stop trying to control himself. Control that is evaporating so fast Ryan doesn’t remember why he decided it was the best not to repeat with the same person, that things between them were back normal. Friends.

    “Are you tired?” Brendon asks as he sees Ryan rub his face, leaving his own empty bottle on the small table with the lamp that’s on his side of the couch. “If you want, I mean. You shouldn’t drive like this, you can take a nap on the bed, if you want.”

    Ryan wants to say yes. He wants to go to bed but not to take a nap and not alone, neither. He turns his head to look at Brendon, counting the seconds he takes to run his eyes over Brendon expression, noticing the effects he has on Ryan’s nerve endings, just having Brendon sitting next to him. The seconds he takes to being aware of the chaos his thoughts are forming in his head. And he counts to ten, maybe eight, he loses count halfway because his heartbeat doesn’t let him listen to his own inner voice. He counts to eight and decides to tell all those thoughts that don’t let him count to go to hell.

    He moves so fast that, for a moment, even he is surprised of his movement, leaning in with his hand on the couch next to Brendon’s crossed legs, using the other one to grab him from the back of his neck and pull him in at the same time. And it seems like it’s going to be like an uncontrolled crash when their mouths touch but, instead, Ryan just feels Brendon’s full lips under his own right before he opens up his mouth and slips his tongue through Brendon’s, the metallic taste from the blood of his wound invading his senses.

    Brendon groans when he kisses back, grabbing him hard, digging his fingers in Ryan’s body and pulling him in. He sighs into Ryan’s mouth and it sounds like relief, it sounds like ‘finally’, it sounds like ‘god, yes, thank you’, or maybe it doesn’t sound like that and Brendon is really saying it, but Ryan has his senses so bloated that he’s unable to associate anything with each one of them. Brendon turns flexible underneath him, molding in his hands, adjusting to his body, opening his crossed legs and crossing them again around Ryan’s waist, clinging to him like his life depended on it.

    “Hey.” Brendon calls him when they break apart, just a few inches, too many. “I thought you didn’t slept with the same person twice” He says, and as he does he slide his hands up under Ryan’s t-shirt, touching his skin with his fingers.

    “I don’t.” He answers, breathing against Brendon’s lips, trapping the bottom one between his own softly, licking when he releases it. “But you.” He adds before kissing him again, cutting the sentence halfway and not knowing what he was going to say because his brain isn’t informing him of the things that come out of his mouth.

    It’s seems fair enough to Brendon, because he nods and slides his hand up to Ryan’s neck, taking the fabric of the t-shirt with him, pulling so he can take it off and crashing their mouths together again as soon as he has the chance. He bites Ryan’s lips hard before brushing their tongues so sweet, and that seems to be one of Brendon’s marks, that contradiction, that madness.

    “Bed.” Brendon says, swallowing his gasps and looking at Ryan’s eyes. “Come on.”

    They stumble into the room, pulling at their clothes and crashing against the walls sometimes because they seem incapable of tearing their mouths apart from each other. They collapse on the bed half naked, the clothes they pulled off on the floor, and reaching out to take the rest of them off. Everything feels rushed and desperate and the need makes the air in the room feel charged so fast it’s hard to breathe. Brendon doesn’t give him a break, he kisses and bites and pushes and scratches, like he wanted to crawl up Ryan’s skin, like he wanted to consume him. He’s demanding, asking and pleading but giving everything he’s got at the same time, talking dirty, dragging his body along Ryan’s, making them fit like puzzle pieces. He manage to take a condom out of Ryan’s wallet before tossing it away, ripping it open and rolling it down Ryan’s cock, handing Ryan a bottle of lube and asking him to use it on him, to fuck him open with his fingers.

    It’s not like Ryan can say no to that, or anything else that Brendon could ask for that matter, so he does as he’s told with trembling hands and uneven breath, taking his time with his fingers until Brendon’s so desperate he almost doesn’t let him keep going. Ryan gets it, he can feel the need everywhere too and he can’t fucking wait to be inside him. He doesn’t tease this time and they get a frantic rhythm from the start, their bodies soaking in sweat and their breath mixing in the gap between their swollen and used lips. Ryan slides so easily it’s like he’d been there forever and soon he’s moving hard and fast in and out of Brendon’s body as Brendon pushes against him, biting him and moaning and touching him everywhere, digging his fingers in Ryan’s flesh when he finds the right spot.

    It doesn’t take long for Ryan to feel the twist in his guts and the warm sensation running through his body, letting him know he’s close. His moans turn ragged and loud and his skin flushes as he speeds up his movements and does everything he knows to bring Brendon with him. Brendon’s lips are red and shiny when they open to let those soft but almost obscene moans come out, his whole body shaking when he mumbles ‘gonna come, baby gonna come’, spilling himself warm and white between their bodies, his muscles clenching, squeezing Ryan’s cock inside him and making him come right after.

    Ryan lets his weight fall down on the mattress when they’re done, all his body relaxing, the feeling of floating making him let Brendon go, his arms falling at both sides of his body with a hard thud against the sheets. He groans long and tired, his mouth opening in a smile with his eyes still closed, his muscles still jerking sometimes. Brendon brings his hand where they’re still joined, holding the condom around Ryan before sliding up, letting Ryan slide out of his body with a grunt and falling down next to him then.

    “Umm, God.” Ryan murmurs with his voice wrecked, opening his eyes and blinking the orgasm haze out of them, turning his head to look at Brendon. “I can’t feel my fingers.” He says laughing. Brendon laughs with him, tired, turning over to lie on his side and sliding his hand up Ryan’s thigh, going up until he grabs him again with his fingers, circling him with them and sliding the condom off, holding it and knotting it, letting it fall on the floor next to the bed.

    “You are…” Brendon starts to talk, clearing his throat when his voice comes out ragged, moving his head slightly on the pillow. “I haven’t met many people with whom I have gotten along so well in bed as much as I do with you.” He says, laughing a little then. “It’s been good having the chance to check it in a real bed.”

    Ryan laughs too, bringing one of his hands to his head to push away the hair that sticks to his forehead, his chest rising and falling with his still agitated breath, going back to normal bit by bit.

    “It’s mutual, then.” He says, smiling and licking his lips, swallowing. “I haven’t been with many people that make me lose control just out of pure need and desperation when we are just starting.”

    Brendon laughs again but this time it sounds like pure satisfaction, he sounds proud, and Ryan can’t deny it’s something to be proud of. Brendon lets his hand on his thigh again, continuing with the massage like it’s nothing, like he was just touching him softly or making patterns on his skin. _Déformation professionnelle_ , Ryan guesses.

    “It’s a shame you’re not one of those who repeats two times with the same person…” Brendon says, laughing crooked, and it could be a joke because Ryan _did_ repeat with him, or maybe Brendon is suggesting something totally different.

    “In fact, it’s been three times with you.” Ryan answers following the joke, not thinking much where they can get with that conversation because he really doesn’t have any idea. He looks at Brendon and smiles, feeling the ache on his thigh every time Brendon touches the right point with his fingers and wrinkling his nose, looking down.

    “That’s because I’m awesome. Even if some people can say I’m a dick. And talking about dick…” Brendon laughs, leaning closer to talk on Ryan’s ear without stopping his hand on his thigh. “I think I got attached to yours.” He comments, wiggling his eyebrows, squeezing Ryan’s thigh then. “Even if it’s making me have extra work.”

    “That’s your fault.” Says Ryan with a laugh, turning his head to look at him. “You can’t tell me not to push it and then walk around being so.” He gestures with his hand pointing at Brendon, thinking that he himself is a good explanation, no need of words.

    “Irresistible. Yeah. I know.” Brendon jokes, laughing shortly and making Ryan laugh with him. He bites his lip where the wound has stopped bleeding but it’s still far from healed, hissing a little but not stopping. He doesn’t close the space between them slowly but he kisses Ryan that way, softly, calmly. Or maybe it’s not like that but the contrast with the adrenaline used up minutes before makes the kiss seem shared on a cloud. When Brendon draws back he makes a face, leaving his head on the pillow and fixing his eyes anywhere but Ryan’s. He smiles anyway. “My thanks for the ride. And also my apology for threatening your life while driving.”

    “Admit it.” Says Ryan, still surprised by Brendon’s kiss. He kissed back on automatic because his body can’t not respond to Brendon’s, but he’s a little stuck there. He’s not used to share kisses after, not if they’re not heading somewhere else. Not like that, at least. “You wanted to kill me, but then you thought better of it because you like my car and want to drive it more.”

    “That makes no sense. If I wanted to drive your car more, I’d have killed you and keep it. It shows you come from the high-class area, you don’t know how the crime ins and outs work.” Brendon mocks him, laughing sideways. Ryan stays silent for a moment and laughs after that, making a resigned face.

    “Touché.” He says, letting out an involuntary grunt when he feels the muscle of his thigh loosen up and relax completely under Brendon’s hand. He keeps massaging for a while, just because, with a satisfied smile and closing his eyes, his hand moving almost on automatic.

    The room goes quiet for a few minutes, the city murmur coming in through the windows being the only source of sound. It’s different from the one that comes through Ryan’s windows, the Michigan Lake so close, the financial area sleeping after a certain hour. Brendon’s neighborhood seems like it never sleeps, and that reminds Ryan a little of home, of Vegas. If he pays attention he can hear voices, some of them talking in languages he doesn’t understand, and there’s music too, as Brendon said to him, rhythms that you can’t hear in The Loop. It’s impossible for him not to startle when he hears broken glass and a couple of shouts suddenly, men’s voices and blows. It seems close. Ryan wonders if it could be seen from the window, if an environment so violent is next to someone that seems as pacific as Brendon, still lying beside him with his eyes closed, his fingers caressing him more than massaging.

    “It reminds me of Vegas.” He says suddenly, not knowing why he said that instead of asking if that happens often, when that was what he was going to do.

    “It’s so Vegas.” Brendon answers, opening his smile and just one eye at the same time, looking at Ryan and agreeing. “If you leave out the part where you have to have the heating on 24/7 here, and it’s the air conditioning instead there. It’s what I miss the most about home, the heat.”

    “You’re from Vegas?” He asks, surprised once more because he didn’t know that at all. He looks at Brendon with his eyebrows lifted.

    “From Utah, actually. But we moved to Vegas when I was little. I don’t have memories from Utah.” Brendon answers. “I came to Chicago when I was seventeen, anyway. But yeah, Vegas.”

    “Which part?” He asks again, curious.

    “Summerlin. I don’t know if you know the area, I know Spencer and you are from Vegas, Cassie told me.” Brendon says, laughing a little guilty. “I know that it’s, like, sacrilegious not to have heard about you guys before I got here, but I already said that hockey was never my thing.”

    “Oh, bah. It’s not like hockey is a big deal in Vegas, neither.” Ryan says, laughing. “The weird thing is Spencer and I found a place where we could play… I still remember how many times my mom told me that she had sweated to find a place and I better not stop going. Even if I was just six years old.”

    “Wow. You started to play so little?” Brendon asks, raising his brows surprised. “When I was six I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I’d grow up. Or yes, probably doing the voices of the Sesame Street toys, once I knew they were just puppets with hands inside. It was a sad day to my childhood.” Brendon jokes. “But yeah, Vegas is not a fun place to be a kid. I was passed down over teachers and educators. they fought over me. I guess you can get why.” He laughs through his nose. Ryan smiles but frowns because he actually can’t get why, exactly.

    “Why?” He asks, now more curious than before. “I mean, I know you’re a little weird, but I thought it was just with me.” He jokes, smiling crooked to him.

    “If now it’s hard for me to stay still, imagine back then.” Brendon laughs, making a gesture with his shoulders and looking up, sighing a little. “I was problematic, disturbed the class, I couldn’t stay still, I was asking questions all the time. They had to kick me out of class, or worse, punish everyone because of me. Kids don’t like when that happens.” He laughs again, twisting his lips. “So, yeah, I was… complicated.”

    Ryan doesn’t know what to say to that, he just watches Brendon closely because he thinks it’s the first time he hears him talk so much about himself.

    “Why did you come to Chicago?” he asks, trying to know more about him, taking advantage of the situation now that he seems willing to talk.

    “Cassie. She was studying here; she came because Jon is from Chicago. So, well…” Brendon licks his lips and swallows, making a face. “I knew the program was good because she was doing it. And she got me scholarships to get in. Not she, you know, she got information.” He says, but it seems like the information comes out by fits and starts, like there were some things Brendon is letting pass and that made the story sound incomplete. Ryan doesn’t pressure, just nods and takes whatever part of the story Brendon wants to give him.

    “I get it.” He says, laughing short, the smile remaining on his face. “Cassie is your Spencer. He always made sure everything was good for me, trying to protect me from everything. It’s funny, considering he’s younger than me.”

    “If you two didn’t have different surnames, anyone would say you’re brothers. That and if you didn’t look like nothing alike.” He adds, smiling. “Since when do you know each other?”

    “Since I was six.” Says Ryan, nodding and smiling as he remembers everything that makes Spencer his brother even if they don’t share surnames. “We met when my mom signed me up for hockey classes, he was there too. And then his family practically became mine too.” He explains, looking around the room and swallowing before he continues. “After my mom died, I stayed with them when my dad was out in missions. So, practically, he’s my brother. Later we went to the same high school, we played hockey there, too, and we only parted ways when we finished.”

    “It must be great, having someone since forever.” Brendon says after a few seconds, his voice soft. “I’m sorry about your mom. I’m glad you had Spencer’s family in those moments.”

    Ryan nods and smiles small, looking back to Brendon.

    “Ginger is like a mother to me.” He says, biting the inside of his lip. “I was just ten, so I don’t really know what my dad would have done if it wasn’t for her. His work wasn’t something he was willing to give up, probably… So, yeah. I owe them a lot. Especially Ginger.”

    Brendon turns his head to look at Ryan, a knowing smile growing on his face. He makes a gesture with his head, letting him know that he understands that.

    “She seems one of those persons it’s worth to know. I think you were wrong, before. I think Ginger is your Cassie, not Spencer.” Brendon says, looking ahead and taking a breath. “When I got here I didn’t have anything, you know? My whole life was in a bag. And Cassie didn’t have much, but she had a couch and she didn’t hesitate to offer it to me. She didn’t have to, I mean… We met. We met a year before in Vegas, at an open day during the summer, you know, where universities bring their programs. And she was there because she has family in Nevada and it was a good opportunity to see them, it was pure coincidence. We talked and talked and _talked_.” Brendon laughs, emphasizing the words. “I swear no one had put up with me for so long without tell me to fuck off. But, for some reason, she liked me and we exchanged phone numbers, you know, to keep in touch if she came back.” He explains, sighing a little as he bites his lip. “I ended up talking a lot with her that year. And she was the first one to tell me I had her house available when… Well. She didn’t have to do it. She never had to do anything she has done for me.”

    “Then my Ginger is your Cassie.” Ryan admits, smiling at Brendon. He knows there’s something more there, but Brendon’s life doesn’t sound easier than his own and Ryan understands perfectly if he doesn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t talk a lot about it, not even some of his teammates knew too much about his life. Just that his mom died and his dad still lived in Vegas. It’s not that he wanted to hide everything that’s behind it, how did his mother die or why he rarely talks with his father, it just wasn’t the kind of conversation you have with your teammates because you hardly ever have the chance. With Brendon is different, anyway. Everything seems to be different with Brendon. “When we were signed up by the Hounds, Spencer and I haven’t seen each other a lot for about three years.”

    “Did you miss him?” Brendon asks, smiling a little.

    “Every fucking day.” Ryan laughs, looking at Brendon and lifting an eyebrow. “But don’t tell him that, it goes fast to his head.” He adds, shaking his head and changing his position on the bed, turning so he’s lying on his stomach and crossing his arms under his head on top of the pillow. “I had friends in the university, but it wasn’t the same. Spencer was… easy, you know? That person that knows everything about you and with whom you talk without words. I don’t know. He was family, the only brother I ever had and my best friend at the same time. It was hard someone could take his place.”

    “I get it.” Brendon nods, laughing a little then. “Well, I don’t, actually. And I’m a bit jealous for that. But I know what you mean about the university friends. I’ve been in a lot of places, I’ve met people and it’s always the same. People always like me at first, we always get along, we can have fun. But if school and high school taught me something is that, crossed a point, people stop putting up with you. Or maybe just me.” He says, laughing and twisting his lips. “And only Cassie. Just her. But it’s never going to be what you have with Spencer. She already had Jon when we met, and now she has a family. She has her family, you know? She’s my best friend and maybe I’m like a little brother to her, a close cousin. But no. Not that much. I never had that level of brotherhood with anyone.”

    Ryan watches him as he talks, biting the insides of his lip and staring at the small details in Brendon gesture. And he’s not good at these things, Ryan doesn’t usually get people and their feelings, but Brendon seems to reflect them on his face like he’s a book with huge words, or at least Ryan thinks he can see that’s a matter that saddens him, maybe. Or makes him feel alone, somehow.

    “It’s a pain in the ass, sometimes.” He says, trying to joke to lighten up the atmosphere. “You don’t know how many times we have hit each other.”

    “Well, it’s like that with all the brothers, isn’t it?” Brendon laughs, letting his head fall down to look at Ryan with a satisfied smile. “I bet Spencer always won. Even being the younger one.”

    “Hey!” Ryan says, pretending to be offended but laughing. “Your little trust in me is insulting. I’m stronger than I look, I told you.”

    “I know. I noticed.” Brendon answers, doing a suggestive face as he runs his eyes over Ryan, laughing then. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just that younger brothers have to support each others. If Spencer didn’t hate me we could team against you. I’m sure it would be funny.” He says, smiling big. Ryan laughs and shakes his head.

    “He doesn’t hate you. He goes around like a badass but he’s a lovely teddy bear at heart.” Says Ryan, laughing because Spencer would break a stick on his head if he heard him say that. “It’s a little… hard to get to. But it will pass.”

    “It’s cool, it’s his right.” Brendon says, downplaying it, shrugging. “He’s not the first and he’s not going to be the last. It’s not something that affects me anymore, actually, that people like me or not.”

    “He doesn’t even know you. But I tell you he’d like you if he did.” Ryan says, a lock of hair falling right over his eye. He tries to blow it away with no success, laughing because he must look like an idiot right now, but he’s too lazy to move it away. Brendon looks at him and laughs at him, clearly, before he moves an arm and pushes it away with his hand, using the movement to bring both his arms up and cross his hands behind his head.

    “The only things we’ve done are sessions and fucking, Ryan. You don’t even know if you like me.” Brendon jokes, or Ryan hopes he’s joking. He shrugs as he smiles at him, lifting an eyebrow then.

    “Are you saying that because you don’t know if you like me either?” He jokes. Brendon laughs through his nose, shaking his head no, closing his eyes for a moment.

    “No, not precisely.” He says, turning to look at him again. “I know very well if I like you or not, don’t worry.”

    “And what makes you think that I don’t know, then?” He says with a triumphant face. He feels his skin get goosebumps when he gets cold suddenly, and just then he remembers that, of course, he’s totally naked and uncovered. He’s still too lazy to move, though, so he stays where he is.

    “You haven’t had _physic_ time yet to decide that I’m a bit exhausting, and maybe you don’t like me as much as you thought and that, actually, he’s not that nice, he’s a little annoying and, who? Brendon? No, don’t ask him to come, that guy is out of his mind.” He enumerates, counting his fingers like counting how many times did he eat during the day. “But it’s okay, with a bit of luck, you won’t have to reach that point. I’ve learned how to ration the time I spend with people and now it’s going pretty well. Lying helps, like I said. The bummer is that, for some reason, it doesn’t work with you…” He says to himself, and Ryan is not sure if Brendon wanted to say that out loud. He stays silent a few seconds, thinking about how many people did turn his back on Brendon for him to assume that. Or who. Sometimes you don’t need a lot, just the right ones.

    “There are more Cassies, Bren.” Is the only thing he says, and he can’t assure he’s one of those, actually he’s one of those who leaves soon from almost everybody’s life, but what he does know is that, since the first day he met him, everything Brendon has done just made Ryan want to get closer to him instead of further apart. To the point of being in his bed talking about his life.

    “Introduce me to that Ginger.” Brendon answers, laughing and moving his feet to slide them under the quilt, catching one side of it with his toes and pulling so he can grab it with his hand and cover himself up to the waist, covering Ryan a little too. Ryan moves when he feels the warmth almost immediately, making him realize how cold is he. He reaches out with his arm and grips the quilt, pulling it up and covering himself to his neck, sighing as he snuggles under it. “Are you cold? Chicago…” Brendon says, moving his hand closer and settling it on Ryan’s back. “Fuck, dude, you’re freezing.” And it must be truth because Brendon’s hand feels warm seconds before he removes it, pulling up the quilt then to cover every part of him too. “Don’t worry, I’m a stove. A few minutes inside here with me and this is Vegas all over again, I promise.”

    Ryan laughs, getting his other arm under the quilt too, starting to feel his eyelids heavy.

    “Maybe I should take you to my bed, too.” He murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut and losing every filter between his brain and mouth. “Too big, the damn thing doesn’t heat up easily. Except when the dogs climb up. If you come, I’ll save in heating.”

    “Maybe you should take me then, yeah.” Brendon nods, lowering his voice to match Ryan’s, and he can hear the smile even though he can’t see it. “That or get a smaller bed, whatever turns out to be less problematic to you.” He says, adding then. “Although, yeah, all the dogs wouldn’t fit in a smaller one, I guess.”

    Ryan makes an agreement sound with his throat, feeling his skin warming and the hot feeling getting under it to relax his muscles and make him feel even more tired and heavy.

    “I like it big.” He says, laughing without much force when he hears himself. Brendon laughs too, rough and through his nose, like he wasn’t expecting that comment.

    “Oh, yeah? Well…” He replies, staying silent for a moment and adding then. “I’ll try not to feel offended as a person who owns an average sized bed.” He says and, actually, Brendon’s bed is good, even if it is average sized. It’s not huge, like Ryan’s, but it serves its purpose, that’s what a bed is made for. Ryan smiles with the little strength he has left, feeling he’s entering in that moment that tomorrow probably won’t remember.

    “I like your bed, too.” He says, his words going along with a movement under the quilt, sliding down until he’s covered to his nose.

    “I’m glad.” Brendon whispers, getting closer to him and laughing softly, placing himself at the same level as Ryan. “Because I think you’re falling asleep on it.”

    “‘m awake.” Ryan murmurs, the sound muffled by the quilt but not very articulated, sounding more like a weak grunt than a word. He moves his eyebrows a little, almost like he were willing to open his eyes, but he hasn’t got enough strength for it.

    “It’s okay, you can stay here.” Brendon whispers, snuggling under the quilt but not touching Ryan. “I think my bed likes you too.”

    Ryan makes another sound with his throat, feeling the impulse of opening his mouth and talk, like his brain commanded it but his muscles were already out of service and couldn’t answer. They do move unconsciously to get closer to Brendon’s body, looking for the warmth he radiates and, before he can process anything more about everything around him, Ryan falls asleep.

 

 

 


	5. Shutdown Pair

 

    It’s the warmth, probably. It’s been long since Ryan woke up surrounded by warmth. In fact, looking back, his memory doesn’t manage to remember any occasion. He’s woken up next to other bodies, yeah, still at night, uncovered with clothes half removed. He has finished putting it on or getting rid of it and whoever was next to him has done the same, and they have warmed each other, awake. Waking up, however, no, that’s something Ryan doesn’t remember doing with warmth. With Chicago’s soft sun getting in through the window with no shutter to prevent it, a quilt covering him and the heat surrounding him the same way that does it arms, legs and soft skin, an even breath tickling his neck.

    Ryan moves, just to check he can, with no intention because his brain still hasn’t taken in the situation and it’s letting him enjoy the feeling, and Brendon moves with him, against him, slowly, soft and, most of all, not drawing away from him. He moves and caresses him wherever his hands are, sliding down his back, up his thigh, the breath changing the rhythm and Brendon’s nose getting more into the back of his neck, up through his hair. The first movements were accidental but now, when Brendon pushes his lips lazily behind Ryan’s ear, his hands keep moving over his skin, and those touches are deliberate.

    Ryan’s being aware of each part of his body bit by bit, like he’s waking up in groups of muscles, feeling his legs first, his arms then, and so until he’s aware of his whole body, the warmth of his own skin under the quilt, of his hard on, more awake than himself between his legs. He sighs and a soft sound leaves his throat just because the touch feels good, but then the information starts to really sink in, telling him where he is, why he is there, who is making him feel so good in the morning when he’s just woken up.

    He waits for the panic; he waits for it because it has to appear anytime now, because this is not what Ryan does. Ryan is not used to this. But it feels good to wake up next to a body like that, with caresses as slow as your own mind, with another person’s heat mixing with your own and the warm feeling under your skin. And the panic doesn’t come, and Ryan would be confused if it wasn’t because mornings are not his strong point and he’s too comfortable to try harder and look for the confusion.

    Brendon is not doing anything else, anyway, probably more sleepy than Ryan. Brendon just touches him, running his fingers over his skin, using his lips too to run them over his neck, kissing sometimes, here and there, wandering through his body with no particular destination in mind. He brushes between Ryan’s legs sometimes, fortuitously, touching him the same way he’s touching the rest of his body. Ryan feels himself more awake when that happens, moaning almost inaudible and feeling the heat growing from the inside, moving his body to look for Brendon’s. He doesn’t even open his eyes, wanting to stay in that state totally aware but still sleepy, and he moves to look for him, turning his head on the pillow, searching blindly for Brendon’s mouth and kissing him lazily but deep, feeling all his body react.

    It’s when their tongues touch that Brendon grunts, a little hoarse from his throat, getting closer to Ryan’s body and breathing him as they kiss. He moves and moves Ryan with him, sliding his hand over the back of his thigh and making him put his leg up on his hip, leaving it there so their bodies can touch. Ryan can feel Brendon’s growing hard on against his own, their naked bodies already favoring the encounter. Brendon keeps wandering through his skin with his hands, breaking away from his mouth just enough to breathe and keep kissing him. He raises his hand to Ryan’s face, holding him as he bites his lips, slow, soft, the same way he’s doing everything else.

    Ryan makes a high pitched noise from his throat, pushing softly with his hips to move against Brendon’s body, catching a rhythm that doesn’t need effort to keep but makes their bodies rub just in the right places to make his skin vibrate and his breath get stuck in his throat. He brings his hands to Brendon’s sides, feeling the heat he irradiates and the softness under his fingers, rubbing his chest against Brendon’s to feel him there too. Brendon seems to get what Ryan wants, what he needs, because in a meditated move, he places himself completely on top of Ryan, fitting in between his legs, feeling smooth on his inner thighs where they rub against Brendon’s hips, touching every inch of skin. Brendon raises his arms, placing his elbows at each side of Ryan’s head and caressing his cheeks with his thumbs, touching him with his nose before kissing him more, deep, the need increasing gradually.

    His hips catch a rhythm too, making their erections rub together, and Brendon brings one hand back down to grab Ryan’s hip, getting him closer, moaning languid.

    “Ryan.” He whispers against his mouth, and he’s not calling for him, he just says his name, and Ryan doesn’t understand how he can make it sound so good. He moves and arches beneath Brendon’s body, opening up his legs more and putting his arms around him, sliding his hands over his back and panting against his mouth with every shock of electricity that runs through his spine.

    He feels like his body was full of adrenaline but his mind wasn’t awake enough to make it work with all its power, so Ryan just lets himself be guided by the sensations, moving when he needs more, keeping Brendon right there. Brendon shivers on top of him, catching Ryan’s bottom lip with his teeth before he takes it into his mouth, savoring it before he keeps kissing him. He slips the hand that held Ryan’s hip between their bodies, grabbing their cocks together, starting to touch them, to move his hand over the lengths, pushing himself with his hips to create two kinds of friction.

    He trembles once, lowering his head to Ryan’s neck, opening his mouth over the flesh and biting, pulling without hurting him but more awake than anything he’s done until now. Ryan moans and nails his fingers in Brendon’s back, tilting his head back to give him more space, getting advantage of it to push up with his hips and get with Brendon’s rhythm, the friction making him open his mouth to breathe, starting to feel closer than he’d like. Brendon says his name again; he repeats it as he runs his lips over his neck.

    “I’m not gonna last.” Ryan breathes, his voice hoarse because it’s the first thing he says since he woke up, one of his hands sliding down to Brendon’s ass and grabbing him there. Brendon moans low, biting Ryan again and releasing them both, reaching out with his hand and having to move on the bed to get what he wants.

     Ryan hears the table drawer opening and closing, he hears the silver tear and the smell of latex invade the room in a few seconds, what Brendon’s body takes to get back over his own, his mouth to Ryan’s mouth, the kiss becoming more urgent while Brendon tries to get the condom he has just opened between their bodies, pushing it against Ryan’s erection. It’s a failed attempt; it’s impossible it can cover him with that diameter, being hard just to push it past the head. Brendon grunts and pulls to take it off and, in a fast move, Ryan feels how he puts it himself, searching with his fingers still wet from the condom’s lube between Ryan’s buttocks.

    He feels the place with his fingers, pushing in one, then two, not getting to the second phalange before he draws them back and looks around on the bed, taking his fingers back to Ryan more slippery, colder. Ryan has no time to feel affected by the temperature, anyway, because before he can think about it, Brendon’s pushing against him, hard and hot, holding one of his legs and breathing on his mouth. Ryan moans and has to tighten his grip in order to not lose control and come right now, biting his lips, feeling Brendon slide inside him, the friction making him shiver.

    “ _God_ , Ryan.” Brendon gasps, gripping him harder, holding him on the right position to start moving. And he doesn’t do it fast, he doesn’t push in hard, they’re rhythmic thrusts, constant, precise, so precise that Brendon hides his face in Ryan’s neck and grunts trembling, opening his mouth, biting for millionth time, biting once more, licking the marks. “You’re… Ryan, fuck.” He moves his mouth up his jaw, kissing him hard when he reaches his mouth. “Can you come like this? If I keep this pace?” He asks, touching his nose with his own.

     “Harder. Just… oh, God.” Ryan moans, biting Brendon’s bottom lip, moving his hips to find his on their way, gasping with every movement.

    “Whatever you want. Ask me for whatever you want, however you want it.” Brendon whispers against his mouth, starting to speed up his movements gradually, increasing the intensity, the strength he uses to push in. Ryan trembles and grunts, kissing him again as much as he can, more a touch of lips than a kiss because the movement doesn’t let them stay in place.

    “Like that. Like that, Bren, fuck.” He pants, breathing against his mouth, sliding one of his hands up to tangle it through Brendon’s hair and holding himself with the other one on Brendon’s lower back. He moans and squirms and feels his muscles vibrating under his skin, increasing the sound of his breath, his heartbeat, the volume of his moans. “I’m gonna come. I’m coming, Brendon. _Brendon_.”

    It seems like Ryan’s words inject adrenaline to Brendon, who kisses him relentless, leaning back and holding him hard from the hip, raising his free hand to his mouth and licking the palm to close his fist around Ryan’s cock. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t try to jack him off, just lets the thrusts, the way he pushes desperately in Ryan’s body, be enough to make him slide in his hold at the same rhythm Brendon imposes. And Ryan shivers and holds on the first thing his hands can find, needing just a few more thrusts to feel a wave of pleasure and the heat of the orgasm through all his body, from the center of it to the tip of his fingers, running over him in electric shocks. He comes with a long moan and biting his lip so hard he leaves the mark of his teeth, his abdomen jerking and his muscles becoming jelly under Brendon’s body.

    Brendon looks at him, runs his eyes over him, staring ecstatic as the white, hot liquid stains his hand before it drops on Ryan, his thrusts as intense as they were during Ryan’s orgasm, not giving him a break. He touches Ryan’s abdomen with his fingers when he releases him, like he wanted to draw on the chaos there. He doesn’t. Instead, he looks at Ryan, panting, trying to keep oxygen in his body, and moves the stained fingers up, touching with them Ryan’s bottom lip, watching him with black eyes and his lips half open. Ryan watches him back with dark and liquid eyes, almost unfocused, opening his mouth under Brendon’s fingers on automatic, getting just the tip of his tongue out to touch them as he fights for regaining his breath.

    He sees Brendon tense all over, tightening his jaw, taking his fingers away from Ryan’s mouth when he closes the hand in a fist, the one still holding his hip digging down his nails on the bone. It’s action-reaction, Brendon’s thrusts lose the rhythm, his whole body trembles and he comes swearing in seven languages all at once, holding Ryan hard and burying himself inside him like he wanted to go through him, like he wanted to stay there his whole life.

    Brendon lets out a ragged and tired sound when he falls down on top of Ryan, sliding out of him carefully and moving aside, looking at Ryan like he couldn’t believe he’s real, biting his lips hard and kissing him fiercely before he can even react, like he wanted to ravish his mouth, licking him, biting him and pulling on his lips. Brendon moves two fingers over Ryan’s abdomen when he breaks the kiss, falling down on the bed like a dead weight and bringing said fingers between his lips, cleaning them up with his tongue and growling rough from his throat.

    Ryan groans looking at him, bringing his hand to his face and covering his eyes, laughing still with his breath uneven and shaking his head.

    “You…” He murmurs, running his tongue over his bottom lip because he feels it swollen and sore after so much biting. He leaves the sentence unfinished because he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know why he can’t just leave that bed, put his clothes on and get out of there before all of this crash over him. He doesn’t know why he didn’t do it last night. What he knows is that it’s the first time in his life a one-night stand becomes four, with a shared bed included. Ryan doesn’t know how to interpret that, what to do with it or how to feel.

    He lets his arm fall on the mattress and blinks looking at the ceiling, swallowing and starting to really get that, when it comes to Brendon, nothing that’s established for him seems to have sense. It’s like his brain changed completely and became unpredictable. Ryan hears Brendon laugh through his nose and feels the mattress move as he reaches out to get the bedside table clock and taking it to his face, squinting his eyes to see what time is it and sighing relieved, leaving it on the table again.

    “Good morning.” Says Brendon with his voice hoarse, turning so he’s lying on his side, bringing down one hand and looking down for a moment with a frown. When his hand reappears again, he has the used condom on it, knotting it and looking at it with a lifted eyebrow. “Some would call this a genocide.” He shakes the condom in the air, making the contents move inside, laughing and throwing it aside then to grab Ryan by the hip, leaning over him to lick his abdomen where there are still the rests of his orgasm, making him gasp. “And this, cannibalism.” He adds with a huge smile, falling down on the bed again and stretching. He looks at Ryan then, moving the corner of his lips in a crooked smile before he brings up his hand and grabs Ryan’s face, getting closer to kiss him hard, opening his mouth with his tongue and making Ryan’s taste get through his lips. “Auto-cannibalism.” Brendon proclaims, releasing Ryan and letting out a satisfied sigh when he lies back looking at the ceiling.

    Ryan licks his lips while he looks at him, his own taste and Brendon’s mixing in his mouth. He looks at him and he can’t believe Brendon can do that to him after an orgasm like that one, make him want to lick him and bit him and fuck him until his lungs give up and his body doesn’t respond to any orders. Ryan moves before he realizes he’s doing it, turning a little and leaning over Brendon’s body to kiss him again as hard as he kissed him before, growling into his mouth, grabbing his hip and digging in his fingers a little there, as if that was punishment enough for having him so fucking confused with himself.

    “You’re breaking all my schemes.” He says against Brendon’s mouth, dropping another short and loud kiss on Brendon’s lips and going back to his previous position, bringing his hands up to put his hair away and leaving them there.

    “I’m not breaking anything.” Brendon says next to him, and he sounds amused, moving then, touching Ryan’s cheek with his nose. “I really wanted to taste you, by the way. I thought I had lost the opportunity.” He whispers, leaving a kiss on the cheekbone before he moves and sits up on the bed, stretching and getting out of it, picking some things up from the floor before he walks to the door naked. “I’m going to have a quick shower, I have class in a while. You can come with me if you don’t have any scheme of those about it.” He mocks before he opens the door. Ryan laughs from the bed and slides his hands down to rub his face, shaking his head no as denial but most like ‘who the fuck are you and what are you doing to me?’ ~~~~

He thinks about it. He really does because the offer is too tempting to turn it down just like that, but Ryan doesn’t know exactly why he’s still lying on that bed, even less why would he get in the shower with Brendon. He knows very well what he’d want to do, but if Brendon has to go soon maybe he can’t even do it, anyway. Brendon looks at him for a while, pouting a little with his lips before he laughs and stares at him one last time, going out through the door. Ryan can hear almost immediately how the one that’s next to the bedroom opens and, just a moment after, the shower starts to run and he hears the water falling.

    He stays in bed, his thoughts running in all directions with no destination, all of them mixing and making him change of perspective like a ball in a tennis match, from side to side, over and over again. A part of him wants to stay there, under the quilt still smelling like sex and Brendon, wait until Brendon comes from the shower and then take one himself and keep doing like he’s just a friend sleeping over without thinking about all the sex involved. Another part of him, that part that is his and Brendon is making sure to test, wants to get dressed and get out of there with just a ‘see you’ shouted to the bathroom door.

    He feels like he’s gone too far and everything’s being too intimate with Brendon for his liking, but he can’t help to like sharing that with him, just as he can’t help to think this is only going to cause problems sooner or later if he doesn’t stop it now. But there’s something in Brendon, something in the way they click, in how he looks at him and touches him and talks to him, that makes Ryan want to get closer, feel him more, listen to him more. It’s like Brendon had a magnetic field around him and Ryan wasn’t strong enough to resist it, even though his mind yells that’s what he has to do. And all those contradictions are making him get into a chaotic spiral in which the conflict conflicts with itself.

    The water stops running shortly after, and now Brendon’s steps sound around the house, small enough for Ryan to never be in silence. Brendon’s voice follows his steps on the wood, singing, humming constantly songs that Ryan knows and melodies he has never heard in his life. He hears them get closer seconds before Brendon reappears at the door, with the jeans he took from the floor among other things as the only piece of clothing covering him, the hair still wet and a green apple stuck between his lips.

     Brendon glances at him and smiles with the apple still in his mouth, turning to open the wardrobe and get out a t-shirt and a sweatshirt, putting them both on before he grabs the apple and takes a bite at last. He gropes his pockets and looks around then, dropping to the floor when he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for and standing up again with his phone on his hand, biting at the fruit once more.

    “I gotta go or I’ll be late.” Brendon says, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment as he puts his sneakers on, reaching out with his hand then to grab the bag next to the bedside table and take it beside him. “You can keep sleeping. Have a shower, have breakfast, whatever you want. There’s an extra key somewhere in the kitchen drawers, turn it three times to lock when you leave. You give it back this afternoon, okay?” He says, as if what it’s happening was the most natural thing in the world. He says that and then leans in, kissing Ryan shortly on the lips before he gets up and hangs the bag over his shoulder. “See you later.”

    “Bye.” Ryan answers, more out of habit than anything because his brain is not working right now. More like malfunctioning stuck, collapsed, overloaded. The kiss was so fast he didn’t have time to react properly; he just stayed there petrified like a statue, still naked under the quilt of Brendon’s bed, still comfortable in his house even when Brendon himself is going out.

    It has to be unreal. Ryan must have hit his head while he played and be in the hospital right now with a concussion and tripping like he has just eaten a field of mushrooms. There’s no other explanation for him to still being there, comfortable and relaxed as if what’s happening was normal. Like they did this every day. Like they were a…Ryan sits up on the bed as if the sheets burned him suddenly, leaning his hands on the mattress and blinking fast. He huffs and brings his hands to his face, pushing them against his eyes until he sees white dots behind his eyelids, making a whiney noise with his throat and cursing himself in every language he knows and some made up.

    He huffs again when he lets his hands drop to his lap, looking around the room with a resigned face and his hair sticking up everywhere, the silence in the house echoing in his ears despite all the sounds he can hear from outside. Ryan glances around the room, looks at himself and looks at the bed, sighing and succumbing to the idea that, once here, there’s no coming back. Anyway, Brendon’s gone and they are not going to see each other again until practice. It’s not like he could know how much time did Ryan stay at his place, it’s not that important either. In the end, it’s a house. Ryan had left a lot of friends alone in his house. Well, just Spencer. And without the previous fucking. But, generally speaking, it could be considered like the same thing, right?

    Once Ryan has gone so far, he doesn’t think a shower and an orange juice can change things that much, anyway.

 

*

 

    When Ryan gets to the stadium that afternoon, he has his bag hanging over the shoulder and the headphones in place like always, and the key of Brendon’s house weights in his jeans’ pocket. It weights and seems to burn like he had just put it through fire and it was red hot, deteriorating the clothes and leaving a mark on his thigh. It weights because Ryan thinks it’s the first time he has a key that’s not his in his pocket, and because the decisions he seems to have made through the morning are still haunting him with voices saying it’s not a good idea.

    Brendon is not in the locker room, like he’s not doing since the first days, and Ryan doesn’t know why he hoped this time would be different. Spencer is, and he starts to tell him that he’s been talking with his mom about Saturday’s dinner, that the twins protested when they knew it was Ryan who was going to join them and not Linda because they knew what that meant. Ginger is going to cook Ryan’s favorite dish because, according to her, she has him at home less and less and she has to take advantage and spoil him a little when she sees him. According to Spencer, his mom would make Ryan’s favorite dish everyday if Ryan lived there, so you can’t believe that excuse unless you don’t know her.

    Bob asks him how goes his leg before they start practice and Ryan is happy to repeat Brendon’s words and say this is the last session he takes with the physio and he’ll be new. As he hears Bob content with the information, he tries not to think about how he’s been pushing the muscle these days, risking to length the injury, and not exactly playing hockey.

    “So, today is your last day with the physio, right?” Spencer asks when they finish, drying his hair with a towel as they exit the showers. “That means I’m going to get my friend back, I hope.”

    “You’re exaggerating.” Ryan says, rolling his eyes and laughing as he shakes his head. “I didn’t go anywhere, you idiot.”

    “Yeah, whatever you say. Do I wait for you outside or are you going to take him home?”

    “I’m gonna take him home. But that doesn’t mean you can’t wait for me, you know?” Ryan says throwing Spencer the towel he used to dry his hair. “Do you have any problem with the physio you didn’t tell me?”

    “No problem. But I prefer waiting so we can hang out without you kicking me out in the middle of the conversation because you have to take the physio home.” Spencer answers sarcastically, throwing the towel back to Ryan. “See you tomorrow, then.”

    “Spence, come on…” Says Ryan, making a gesture to him but feeling guilty, because it’s true now they can’t share those moments after practice that were just theirs. “Eh, how about we go out on Saturday? Just you and me. I’ll make it up to you.”

    “Deal. After dinner. That way you can’t run away.” Spencer nods, making a gesture with his head. Ryan laughs and nods, feeling better with himself even though he didn’t tell Spencer he promised to take Brendon home every day, not just today.

    The guys leave the locker room one after another as always, leaving him alone, saying their goodbyes and some of them patting him on the shoulder to cheer him up because this is the last session. Ryan nods and says goodbye and, when all of them have left the locker room, he’s still there, sitting with his underwear on and the jeans open, the t-shirt sticking to his back because he still had wet skin when he put it on. He stays there while he thinks about what he’s going to say when he crosses the corridor and finds himself face to face with Brendon.

    After being all morning thinking about what happened those last days, a part of him still tells him it’s crazy to do what he’s going to do, but Ryan is determined. More or less. After all, Brendon was right, they connect in bed better than Ryan has ever done with anyone, they both know what they were looking for from each other and, as long as Ryan has this with Brendon, he’s not going to look for it outside where he’s more exposed to being caught and everything can go to hell.

    It’s not a bad idea, actually, Ryan thinks. With other people one time was enough and with Brendon even four didn’t seem to be. Why not keep seeing each other? It didn’t have to mean anything, just that both of them found someone to get along with and be fine. No more and no less. Thinking about it with a cool head, it isn’t a big deal and if Ryan didn’t do it before maybe it was because he hadn’t found anyone with whom he was interested in doing it. In the stadium, everyone saw them as friends, no one had to know. What’s the worst that could happen?

    He gets up with a sigh and hangs his bag over his shoulder, getting out of the locker room and crossing the corridor towards Brendon’s office door. He’s late, more than usual, so he decides not to think about it too much and just open the door, stepping into the room. He finds Brendon collecting his things, with the bag where he carries the clothes open on the table and the computer already turned off.

    “Oh. I thought you left,” Brendon says surprised, taking the bag off the table and leaving it on the floor, “thought maybe you forgot you had one session left,” he laughs a little, turning around on the chair and taking out a file, Ryan’s, probably.

    “I was just held up a little in the locker room.” Ryan explains, closing the door behind him and leaving the bag aside. He takes off his sneakers and leaves them there too, getting his hand into his pocket before he forgets and grabbing Brendon’s key. “Here, before I forget,” he says, walking towards Brendon and giving it to him. Brendon gets closer to take it as he does a grateful gesture with his head, bending down to put it in the bag.

    “Let’s get to it, then, right?” Brendon asks, pointing to the stretcher with his hand and waiting for Ryan to get ready and start the session. Ryan nods and takes off his jeans in a quick movement before he sits on the stretcher.

    “Sitting or lying down?” He asks.

    “I’ll let you choose the posture,” Brendon smirks, opening the cupboard but just uncapping one jar and pouring some substance on his hands, rubbing it and closing the cupboard with his elbow before he gets back next to Ryan. Ryan looks at him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile but doesn’t say anything, he stays sitting like he is and leans back a little with his hands on the stretcher at his back.

    Brendon nods, like he approves, getting the foot under the stretcher to take out the stool and sitting down between Ryan’s legs, starting to spread out his hands totally open over the thigh to make them slide before he starts with the usual massage. Ryan’s thigh reacts fast beneath Brendon’s hands, already used to the movement, relaxing and molding easily to his fingers, responding quickly despite all the effort made during the past hours.

    The minutes go by in silence, Brendon focused in what he’s doing and letting his eyes fixed in the way his hands work over the group of muscles and every one of them individually, going from one technique to another, starting to hum a while later. Ryan has learnt that’s what Brendon does when he spends time in silence, as if he needed to fill it in somehow. This time Ryan does recognize the song, that one that talks about the colors of the wind in Pocahontas. It seems like Brendon is a truly Disney fan. Ryan can’t help but laugh softly, not mockingly, just because he doesn’t think he has ever known someone so different in his life. Brendon tears his eyes off his thigh for a second to look at Ryan, lifting an eyebrow and tightening his fingers in the muscle, digging them in with force as he keeps singing louder, higher and adding the lyrics.

    “Ouch!” Ryan whines, laughing, his leg moving a little by reflex. “I wasn’t laughing at you, okay?”

    “ _And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon! For whether we are white or copper skiiiiinned!_ ” He sings louder, nailing his fingers down, holding Ryan’s leg hard and laughing. “ _We need to sing with all the voices of the mountaaaaain_!”

    Ryan laughs more and wrinkles his nose, Brendon’s fingers digging right on the spot. He doesn’t hurt him much, he knows very well what he’s doing, but it stings enough for him to whine about it.

    “Okay, okay! I’m sorry.” Ryan says between laughs, trying to keep his composure and stop laughing so Brendon quits torturing his thigh, pressing his lips together.

    “That’s better.” Brendon smiles satisfied, lowering his voice again and going back to humming when he looks at Ryan’s leg once more, massaging the areas where he dug his fingers a little before he follows what’s programmed.

    “You use your knowledge for evil.” Ryan says dramatically, watching Brendon as he goes back to work, trying to hide the smile that’s starting to open across his face. “Just out of curiosity, do you know the whole Disney repertoire?”

    “Obviously.” Brendon answers like it’s clear. “And Queen’s. And Bowie’s. And most of Broadway musicals. I’d say Abba’s too but I’d be lying, I just know Mamma Mia’s songs.”

    “Impressive.” Ryan comments, this time letting the smile show on his face. “You’re full of surprises.”

    “Oh, really?” Brendon looks at him again, smiling surprised. “Some had said I was full of shit before, but never full of surprises. That’s new.”

    “Well, it’s true. For me, at least.” Ryan says, shrugging. “The only predictable thing you do is the massages, and even they carry surprises. Like your fingers digging in my poor injured thigh without mercy.” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling crooked. “Among other things.”

    “Your poor muscle isn’t injured anymore, as much as you make an effort to put it through risky situations.” Brendon comments, smiling back to him. “And you can be proud, you don’t know how many people have asked me if I give massages with happy endings when they learnt I was physio. You’re the only one that can say I do.”

    “Oh. So, happy endings are reserved just for me?” He asks, biting the corner of his lip and keeping it between his teeth for a long moment. Brendon shrugs, taking his eyes back to Ryan’s thigh, carrying on with the massage.

    “They could be,” he answers then, laughing and looking up just a second, “although I don’t know if that kind of service is in my contract. Let’s say you’d have to contract private sessions to get them. The other time was a free sample, one of those that are made to lure you.”

    “It’s not bad, to lure.” Ryan comments, watching Brendon’s face closely and biting down his lip over and over again. “And what would I have to do for you to agree with those… ‘private sessions’?”

    Brendon looks up at the same time his hands stop on Ryan’s thigh, his expression hard to decipher. His eyebrows are straight but they seem to fight not to furrow and frown, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s face and his lips a little open. He blinks as he wets them with his tongue, tilting his head a little as if that way he could read Ryan better, his words, his face. In the end, Brendon shrugs again, laughing through his nose and continuing with the movements in his thigh.

    “Ask for it.” He answers, twisting his lips. “Just that. And then sign a contract, agree on my salary, extra payments and holidays.” He adds then in a more relaxed tone, laughing. Ryan laughs with him and swallows, licking his lips and leaning in on the stretcher, bringing one of his hands to the back of Brendon’s neck and lowering his head as he pushes him closer to kiss him short but hard, licking his bottom lip and biting it right after, feeling Brendon’s fingers tightening on his thigh again.

    “I’d like to have those exclusive happy endings, if you don’t mind.” He murmurs against his mouth before he leans back again to his previous position, feeling his heartbeat on his temple. He can see Brendon swallowing hard and a pink blush decorating his cheeks.

    “Well,” Brendon starts, clearing his throat when his voice gets stuck, “after a so convincing reasoning, how could I say no?” He asks, laughing nervous then and looking down, shaking his head before he looks at Ryan again. “I thought you didn’t… But, if you want. Yeah, of course. Okay.”

    “It seems like I can be full of surprises, too, sometimes.” Ryan answers, shrugging and laughing softly, biting his lip again as he stares at Brendon, running his eyes over his face.

    “It seems like it, yeah.” Brendon smiles pulling on his lip with his teeth before he continues the massage. A few minutes pass by until Brendon laughs again, looking back at Ryan and tensing his jaw a little. “Just to clarify, what did I just agree on?” He asks, letting out a nervous laugh. “Because the kiss made me a little stupid and I don’t know if I promised to be your massage slave forever.”

    “I don’t have massages in mind, exactly.” Ryan says, laughing a little and looking at him suggestive. “More like what comes after them… or before, if you take last night as example.” He adds, licking his lips and swallowing. “You’re welcome to give me massages anytime you like, anyway. I’m not going to say no to that.”

    “Right, okay, I got right the slavery thing then.” Brendon laughs, nodding with his head and sliding his hands a couple of times more over his thigh before he takes them back. “So we’re done, you’re free. You get your freedom the day I lose mine, how funny…” He jokes, moving back on the stool to stand up, going to the sink to wash the lotion off his hands.

    “You’re free.” Ryan comments, standing up and taking his jeans to put them on. “To give me a massage whenever you want. You can’t complain.” He jokes, sliding his jeans up and buttoning them. “Think about it, you can practice with me whatever you like.”

    Brendon turns around to look at him, a knowing smile on his face as he raises one eyebrow, doing a gesture with his face.

    “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” He comments suggestive, laughing then and grabbing his bag, walking towards his locker and gathering his clothes from there. “You coming home now, then? To sign the contract and all that. It’s because I prefer not to change now if we’re going by car and I’m going to take my clothes off again anyway.”

    “You’ll be lucky if you get home dressed,” Ryan jokes, or not, because talking about it is making him feel impatient, “my car has enough space…” He laughs, hanging his bag over his shoulder and pointing with his head as a sign to tell Brendon to get out of there. “Come on, I think your bed is already missing me.”

 

*

 

    If Ryan could travel in time, he would use that power to have a few words with the Ryan that decided to get involved with Brendon just one time, without a doubt. In fact, he’d go even further back, he’d go to the first day Brendon got there and would warn _that_ Ryan, he’d grab him by the arm and say: “Ross, listen to me. Get in that office and flirt with the physio. Don’t worry, he likes dick too and no, it’s not a bad idea, it’s the best one you have ever had. Flirt with him and make sure you suggest fucking exclusively before someone else does it first because, my friend, that boy is the answer to all your prayers.”

    Maybe he wouldn’t say it that way, exactly, because he knows himself and probably he would end up running away, but Ryan would work it out because really, Brendon? Having Brendon always available for him? Knowing those hands, that mouth, that body is there for him? The best thing Ryan could have imagined. And it’s true that, at first, he had a lot of reasons why this could go wrong, but all of that disappeared the moment Brendon said he was totally on board with the idea.

    The best thing is that, in addition to the perks that Ryan already found in the theory, the practice has made him see there are a lot of spectacular points that he didn’t have in mind. It doesn’t just erase the need of exposing himself going to different clubs, risking being watched by someone, reporters, fans, whoever, risking the person he sleeps with could tell about him, but it adds something Ryan didn’t think about: the experience. His whole life having one night stands, maybe fucking more than once if it was good but just one night, Ryan had always have the need to learn everything from the start with each person and each person has to learn everything about him. Sex could be good, yeah, it could be awesome, and it could be bad too, a disaster. Nothing of that happens with Brendon.

    Ignoring the somehow confusing thing about them connecting one hundred percent from the very first time, as they meet more and more the sex just gets better and better. The familiarity of knowing each other, knowing where to touch to make the other squirm and moan, where to be gentler, when they can be rougher, learning each other like they were maps gives them another way to have control, allows them to add, remove, experiment. And, God, Ryan had discovered how much he likes to experiment.

    In the few days that have passed since they started this, Ryan didn’t just learn things about himself in bed he didn’t even know, but he’s also feeling an urge towards sex that has him like a teenager. Towards sex with Brendon. It’s like every time he sees him when they bump into each other in the stadium or when Ryan finishes practice and they leave together, a shot of chaos overwhelms him from head to toe and he _needs_ to have Brendon in the nearest comfortable surface he can find. Ryan doesn’t remember to have felt that level of need with anyone before, which burns his veins and makes him lose all control he can have over himself to the point of being unable to refrain until they get home and accost Brendon in his own car sometime.

    The best thing is that, all in all, he still has a physiotherapist with him almost constantly, at least every time he has to do an effort, and Ryan can swear he hasn’t ever felt better in his life. He performs better, he feels better, he plays better and that’s exactly what he needs. He could even say he’s in a better mood, but that usually happens when you fuck regularly and Ryan can brag about always having that. Although never like _this_. It’s like he was discovering a whole new level of good mood.  

    Spencer notices, because Spencer _always_ notices these things, the same way he notices how Ryan reacts with more laughs and satisfied faces to every joke, to the nudges and the ‘someone fucked last night’ and ‘someone fucked this morning too?’ and, most of all, those ‘dammit, Ross, are you going to leave some for the rest of us?’ that always make him laugh. Spencer makes him promise that he didn’t forget about Saturday’s dinner and that they have the night just for them, emphasizing that hooking up with someone is forbidden.

    Ginger welcomes him like it’s been years since she saw him even though it’s been just a few months and the twins pretend they don’t know him, wrinkling their noses and looking at him sideways before they give in and smile, hugging him both and messing up his hair as they ask him when is he going to get it cut. The funniest thing it’s to see Spencer standing up for him there when he’s the one saying the same thing every time he can.

    “That’s because you still miss your hippie phase.” Emma jokes when they are done eating. “Mom still keeps photos of that in one of her albums.”

    “Emi, don’t you dare.” Spencer threatens quickly, pointing at her with his finger from the other side of the table, making everyone laugh, including the girl’s boyfriends, who haven’t talked much.

    “I told you not to call me that!” The girl opens her eyes big as a blush deepens on her cheeks.

    “If they truly love you, they’ll have to know your nicknames, right?” Spencer asks, laughing. “You shouldn’t be ashamed, you were little, and you didn’t know how to pronounce right, it was normal…” He says mockingly, opening his smile.

    “Oh, you don’t want to go there, _Spin_.” Alison replies, defending her sister, and now Ryan can’t hold back his laugh.

    Ginger laughs, trying to set peace between the guys, standing up to clear the table and saying it’s not a bad idea going to get some photo albums. Spencer looks at Ryan, telling everything he’s thinking with his eyes as his mother keeps talking about what album is better to see before.

    In the end, like always happens, everyone is a little chastened by the photo seeing, from Spencer’s hippie phase to those years of Ryan’s dubious choice of clothes, passing by the twin’s dance contests with their resulting homemade costumes. It’s fun, when they’re not laughing at you. When they leave the house, Spencer points to Ryan to get both in Spencer’s car, going out of town to go to one of those new places Spencer always discover.

    The music sounds softy when they get there because it’s still early and there are barely people, so it’s the perfect atmosphere to talk for a while as they drink, reconnect after these days in which Spencer has felt neglected. Ryan finds it amusing that his friend keeps having those jealousy attacks he’s been dragging since they went to different schools.

    “It’s not jealousy. At all.” Spencer replies, not saying anything more in his defense because he really can’t.

    “Whatever you say, Spin.” Ryan mocks, leaning back on the armchair and clearly laughing at him.

    “It’s not. It’s just I had things to tell you, you know? Important things. But well, I see you’re pretty busy lately with the physio or fucking half of Chicago.” Spencer says, looking at him sideways as he brings the glass to his lips. “Before, it was just the weekends, dude. Maybe you have a problem of those, like Tiger Woods,” Spencer laughs.

    “It’s not like that.” Ryan answers, rolling his eyes and laughing. “You guys alone have reached that conclusion. I didn’t confirm nor deny it.”

    “You’re talking to me, I know your ‘I’ve just fucked’ face, as unpleasant as it can be.” Spencer says, grimacing and wrinkling his nose. “You come to practice with that face and to the matches, and you leave with the face you have when you know you’re gonna get laid. If we were living together, you wouldn’t take the sock off the door handle, I’m sure,” Spencer laughs, looking at him for a moment and doing a gesture with his face. “The thing is, before at least, you used to be very picky when it came to people you slept with. Where are you getting them? Unless…” Spencer frowns, staring and pointing at him with the glass as he lifts an eyebrow. “Ross?”

    “What?” Ryan asks, faking innocence although he can sense the cool sweat and the panic beating in his ears. Spencer opens his eyes more, bursting out laughing.

    “Jesus fuck!” He says, looking at him with half smile. “You’ve met someone. Fuck, how did I not see it before? It’s that.” He affirms, looking at Ryan not so he answers but for him to dare and deny it.

    “What?!” Ryan repeats, this time sounding incredulous, bursting out laughing with his head back and his eyes closed. It’s a sincere laugh, actually, because Spencer is making it sound like Ryan liked someone. Like, _like_. Ryan doesn’t like Brendon, not like that, it’s just something physical and he likes to spend time with him because he’s funny and intelligent and he has a lot to tell, even though he doesn’t. But it is different from what Spencer is talking about. Totally different. “God, Spencer. And you call yourself my best friend? It’s like you didn’t know me…”

    Spencer wrinkles his nose and leans back a little, still looking at Ryan but losing some of that energy he used to jump to conclusions. Even so, he doesn’t seem totally convinced because he twists his lips as he drinks again, clearing his throat before he talks again.

    “Okay, but something is going on.” He concedes, knowing that Ryan has given him a good argument. “Really, when I met Linda it was like that, constantly.” He says and he laughs before Ryan can tell him to spare the details. “But if it isn’t that, it’s something else. And there’s someone involved.”

    Ryan murmurs something in the lines of ‘you’re out of your mind’ as he laughs and drinks from his glass, trying to ignore the strange sensation that swirls in his chest and warms his belly when he hears his friend’s words. Spencer keeps watching him for a while, shrugging then not at all convinced but changing the matter to hockey field, where both of them move better. They talk about the New York Eagles match in a few days, the team that will put the Hounds against the robes this season for sure. They have a habit of seeing the matches when their rivals play, all the team together, when the regular season is close to the end, to study them, being ready when they get to the playoffs.

    “It’s Blake’s place this time, right?” Ryan asks. They use to take turns, who offers the place and who buys the drinks. Ryan is never sure who’s in charge of what and, if it weren’t for Spencer, probably he wouldn’t even remember when it’s his place’s turn.

    “Derek’s.” Spencer corrects with half smile, and he laughs completely when Ryan’s eyes open wide. “Yeah, we already told him not to bring strippers.”

    “It’s going to be a fucking mess.” Ryan laughs, thinking about the last times they met to see a match at Derek’s house. Let’s say Derek is not known for his love of peace and quiet. Ryan remembers that one time they ended up with reporters all over the door, as well as the security team.

    “No, no, really. He promised. No strippers, no models, no girls in general. Just the team and friends.” Spencer says. “Last time, I got out of there wanting to bathe in holy water.”

    Ryan laughs and he’s about to tell him how different his opinion about that was before he got a girlfriend, but the phone vibrates in his pocket and interrupts his thoughts. He’s going to put it out of the jeans just to hang up, but Brendon’s name on the screen reaches his eyes milliseconds before he presses the button. His finger stops where he is and a weird feeling crosses his stomach and chest, like sitting in front of a fireplace after being out in the polar cold. Ryan bites his lip when a small smile tries to make its way over his face without warning and with no reason, clearing his throat and looking at Spencer with a raised finger.

    “Just a second, Spence.” He says to him, pressing the pickup button instead of the one to hang up and bringing the phone to his ear. He’s not used to Brendon calling him, maybe it is important or something has happened, he has to answer. Also, he wants to. “Hey,” he greets, avoiding his best friend’s gaze like he could somehow read whom Ryan is talking to in it.

    “Hey.” Brendon repeats from the other side, and Ryan can hear the smile on his voice. “What are you doing? Are you busy?”

    “I’m having a drink with Spencer,” Ryan answers, keeping his eyes on a hole in his jeans, playing with the thread there, “it was an outstanding debt. What about you?”

    “Oh. Right, yeah, I’ve just… I’ve just got home, actually.” Brendon talks, and his voice changes a little but Ryan can’t put his finger on what. “I thought that maybe we could have a drink ourselves but I see Spencer got there first. It’s okay, I’m a good loser,” he says, laughing a little. Ryan laughs with him and the sudden need to see him makes him wrinkle his face. He whines from his throat almost without realizing it, because he’s not going to bail Spencer out as much as he wants to meet with Brendon.

    “Another outstanding debt, then.” He says, unable to hide the deception in his voice. “Tomorrow?”

    “That makes two of them.” Brendon answers and the smile is back in his voice. “I have boxing tomorrow, I can call you when I finish. Or you can come to see me.” He adds as a suggestion. “I promise a good show if you do.” He says and he could simply talk about the exhibition of his abilities but his suggestive tone shows it’s not that what he’s proposing.

    “It sounds interesting,” Ryan says, trying to keep his tone neutral to avoid Spencer’s looks from across the table, biting the corner of his lip. “Gimme the direction?” He still finds it odd that Brendon does boxing, not because he doesn’t have the energy for it but because he doesn’t seem like one of those who would go around punching things. Ryan knows. He has always been one. Even so, it’s something he’s deeply interested in seeing.

    “Of course.” Brendon answers, laughing through his nose. “Hey, want a curious fact about boxing before hanging up?”

    “You have all of my attention.” Ryan jokes, laughing although it isn’t really a joke because right now he doesn’t even remember he has Spencer in front of him. He just does when he looks up and sees him watching him, making him clear his throat and shift on his seat.

    “One of the most important things that is different from hockey,” Brendon starts, lowering his voice, “is that its only uniform is a small pair of shorts and nothing else. You don’t even need gloves if you’re starting, it’s really comfortable.” He comments, and Ryan can hear how he laughs and licks his lips. He does the same just out of instinct. “And, you know what’s best about those shorts? Curiously, they fit my ass just right, but they have enough space in the front and you can stick your hand inside perfectly. I don’t expect you to believe me, I know it seems impossible, but you can always check it out tomorrow when you come.”

    Ryan feels his throat go dry and the string of curses get stuck on his throat, making him clear it and look up at Spencer to see if he can notice somehow that his face changed, because he’s sure it must have changed. Maybe any other person would not notice it, but Spencer’s been there too many years and he knows all of his expressions.

    “I’ll make sure to do it,” he answers, and he finds out it’s really hard to keep a conversation with neutral answers when Brendon is at the other side saying those things. He hears him laugh, like he was enjoying this.

    “Great. I’ll leave you with your Spencer, then,” Brendon says as a goodbye, and Ryan catches him laughing again right before the line goes completely dead. He takes the phone off his ear and hangs up, avoiding Spencer eyes as he put his phone in the pocket and tries to recover, going back to his glass and friend then.

    Ryan sees then how Spencer is looking at him exactly like he expected to, with his eyes half closed suspicious, scrutinizing, frowning a little and leaning in closer. He raises an eyebrow when Ryan looks back at him for the first time since he answered the phone, moving his head and blinking a couple of time.

    “Who was it?” He asks, and it sounds like more questions, not just one, it sounds like Ryan’s answer is going to be the answer to a lot of questions Spencer is not asking. And Ryan could lie, he could day it was any person, a girl, a friend, the first thing that crosses his mind. But he can’t help to feel guilty just thinking about it, lie to Spencer, the only person he has never lied to. Just once and for Brendon.

    “Brendon.” He answers before he finishes his thoughts, shrugging and bringing the glass to his lips so he can lose the dryness there because, actually, he doesn’t know why he answered that. He guesses it’s not bad, Spencer doesn’t even know he’s with boys sometimes, he had to discard it first thing just for that. Or so Ryan hopes, because he starts to feel a cool sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

    Spencer’s face changes radically to a confused one, like Ryan’s answer had disconcerted all of his schemes and he didn’t know what to do with it, like going to a bakery and be served roast chicken. It makes no sense. That’s Spencer’s face. Ryan would laugh if he weren’t so tense waiting for his reaction.

    “Brendon… The physio?” He asks, like he needed to make sure he’s heard it well, as if the possibilities of his ear betraying him or Ryan making a mistake were as valid as telling the truth. “Didn’t you finish with your leg already?” He adds, because it seems like that is the only way Spencer understands that Ryan keeps in touch with Brendon, that it was a work thing.

    “Yeah. It seems he has a boxing fight tomorrow or something like that.” Ryan comments, using his lack of information to convince himself it’s not a lie. “He was calling to tell me if I want to go.”

    “To see the physio?” Spencer asks, and this time his face relaxes a little, showing disbelief as he starts to laugh. He looks at Ryan like he still can’t understand but suddenly it’s the funniest thing on the world.

    “What?” Ryan asks, laughing a little and shrugging in an unconcerned gesture, even if he doesn’t know what’s so funny to his friend, actually. “I like boxing. I have nothing to do. It’s not that weird.”

    “Wait, you’re going to go?” Spencer stops laughing suddenly, the disbelief staying now on his face, alone and sharp. “To see the physio boxing.”

    “Maybe.” Ryan answers, drinking from his glass and gesturing with his face to Spencer. “Why not? It’s that or staying at home all day. It’s not different from any other day that Aaron has invited us to see him play that weird thing he likes, what’s its name? Umm, I don’t remember. Whatever.”

    “Curling. Right, no, it’s totally different,” Spencer corrects, taking a sip of his drink and taking his ‘I’m always right’ role, leaning in more and looking at Ryan. “Aaron is one of us. The physio is the physio, Ry. That kid should look for friends outside the team; he’s starting to get a little annoying. Also, we only go to see Aaron to laugh at him in his face.” Spencer laughs through his nose, bringing his lips to the glass again. “We could do something. There’s a really good billboard at the cinema, we could take a look.”

    “Spencer.” Ryan says, looking at him with his eyebrows lifted in an incredulous gesture. His friend could be difficult sometimes, but it was starting to be shocking his behavior towards Brendon. Ryan laughs because he doesn’t know what else he can do, feeling a little on the defensive. “Are you listening to yourself? ‘He should look for friends outside the team’, ‘he’s not one of us’. What the fuck, dude? I see no problem in him making friends within the team; he’s part of the club. Seriously, I don’t know what you got going on with him but you don’t even know the guy, Spence… Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair?”

    “Unfair?” Spencer looks at him like he couldn’t believe Ryan’s words. “Ryan. He’s the _substitute physiotherapist_. As I recall, we never had that behavior with Cassie, or any other medic professional. Because they’re that, professionals. They come, do their job, and leave. They don’t keep going from here to there, all over the players and jumping like a fucking goblin high on coke. It’s exasperating. And he’s good at parties, you can put up with him, the guys like that, but if everyone is being more careful than ever to not get injured is because there’s _no way_ they could stand a whole physio session with him.” He says, spitting the truth like they were obvious and Ryan stupid for not seeing them. “It’s you whom I don’t understand. You should be the one wanting to get rid of him, not going to his fucking _boxing fight_.”

    “Well, maybe I don’t devaluate a person because of how he is or being the ‘substitute physiotherapist’ who is only here to come, serve me doing his job, and cease to exist, like the rest of my team seems to think,” Ryan says, now really angry because of Spencer’s words. He sounds like a presumptuous star that only gets along with people of his status. But also because it’s Brendon who he is talking about. “Maybe all the guys are too busy having fun at parties and being self centered to realize that, hey, look, maybe he’s a person like everybody else and he can contribute something. It’s fine, I know them, and I know what they are like, but you? What’s your excuse? You’re talking like an asshole, Spence. And if you want to behave like one, go on, but I have the fucking right to be friends with whomever I want to,” he finishes, leaving the glass on the table with a harder thud than he should, making it echo.

    “Hey,” Spencer raises his hands in surrender and trying to get him to calm down at the same time, “let’s not get upset, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with you suddenly but I don’t mind him being a _physio_ , alright? If I said the substitute thing is because that guy is going to leave sooner or later and we are not going to see his face again. I don’t fucking care if he’s a physio or not, I don’t have a problem with hanging out with people who is whatever the fuck they want. I do have a problem hanging out with people who’s fucking annoying and that guy is fucking annoying, Ryan, whatever you say. If you have a thing for him now for a reason I don’t actually understand it’s a whole other thing. But, well. Suit yourself. Want to go to the boxing fight? Go for it. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ryan.”

    “Yeah, well,” says Ryan, breathing in and letting the air out with a huff in order to calm down, still frowning and feeling his blood running fast in his veins. “I’d like to do it without my best friend judging me for it, you know? Without him looking at me like I had three heads.”

    “Fuck, Ryan, it’s just fucking weird.” Spencer shrugs, like he didn’t know what else to say. “Because usually you’re the one running away from that kind of people.”

    “Well, weird or not, it is what it is.” He answers, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms on his chest. “I get along with the guy, there’s nothing wrong with that. So I’d appreciate it if you stop acting like there was. At least with me. If you want to talk shit about him, I’m sure the rest of the guys would be delighted to join you,” Ryan says, his tone more relaxed. Spencer looks at him for a few seconds before he shrugs again, taking a long sip from his drink and looking away.

    They don’t usually fight, not like this. Of course they fight, a lot, because of stupid things, childish ones, things about the team and sports, about who bought the best preset for Ginger’s birthday and things like that. But it’s never serious, nothing that involves another person like this. Right now Ryan doesn’t know what to do about it because this is Spencer, his best friend, his _brother_ , but Ryan had never felt so insulted in his life.

    Spencer doesn’t say anything more, and the silence that grows between them in the middle of the club’s noise feels awkward and out of place, like something that doesn’t belong there, not between them. The worst thing is that all of this confuses Ryan and he doesn’t know what to think about Spencer and Brendon, if this is really about Spencer’s pathological jealousy that always has been there or if the problem is Brendon, in particular. Ryan knows Spencer is jealous, but usually he comes back to his normal behavior when he realizes the other person is not a threat to his friendship with Ryan. It’s not like that with Brendon, and Ryan can’t help but think about that conversation he had with Brendon where he told him how everyone ended up getting tired of him sooner or later because he was too annoying, too much to bear, how people ended up getting away from him because his excessive energy was too much trouble.

    The last thing Ryan wants to do is admit he’s right about that when it comes to Spencer. Because Spencer is his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and Ryan refuses to believe someone so valued for him acts like that with someone like Brendon. He isn’t even going to think why he’s so affected about what Spencer can think of Brendon. It’s not about Brendon per se, it’s not, and it’s not because Brendon means something special or important to him. He’s sure he’d be offended anyway if it were any other person in the same situation.

    It’s Spencer who talks again in the end, when the tension is so thick is hard to breathe, changing topic and going back to neutral field even though it’s complicated to get back to the previous good atmosphere. They don’t take long to leave, anyway, considering the conversation it’s just short and awkward sentences. It’s better than leaving when they’re still angry, Ryan thinks. It would have been worse because both of them ride in Spencer’s car and Ryan would have had to call a cab and everything would have got complicated. This way Ryan can decide to ignore that part of his best friend that he doesn’t like at all and hope that it disappear with time.

    Ryan almost wants to call Brendon and tell him he can have that drink with him, in the end, but he stops himself when he thinks that probably Brendon already has plans and he’s sure he’d end up talking shit about Spencer and he doesn’t want to do that to his friend, the same way he doesn’t want to make Brendon feel bad knowing what Spencer thinks about him. In the end, he goes home, putting everything that’s happened away from his mind and thinking that tomorrow will be a new day.

 

*

 

    Ryan gets up when the sun is so up the shutters can’t prevent its rays to get in through the cracks, giving the room that gold atmosphere making it look like a twilight that isn’t really one. He remembers that, the first time it happened, shortly after he had moved in, he almost had a heart attack thinking he had slept in to the evening. It’s just noon, actually, and even though he missed breakfast and the dogs probably left a million poops in the backyard he’ll have to clean, Ryan needed all those extra sleeping hours.

    He puts sweatpants and a t-shirt on, and gets an energy bar from the kitchen before he calls the dogs and makes them come in droves, taking longer to put the lashes on each one of them than he did getting dressed because the fuckers can’t stay still. He makes the most of it running, too, taking two lashes on each hand and running to the nearest park, leaving the dogs unleashed then in the area for dogs and sitting on a bench, looking at his statistics on his pulsometer.

    It’s when he comes back home and takes his phone to order food when he sees a message from Brendon. Ryan remembers the previous night conversation and how he asked him to send the direction to go see him boxing, but Brendon never did. The message is dated today at eight past quarter in the morning and Ryan can’t help but wonder what the fuck is Brendon doing up so early on Sunday. This time he doesn’t fight the smile that grows on his face as he reads the message and he can almost hear Brendon voice.

    ‘ _We can have dinner. I know a pizza place that’s great_ ’

    ‘ _When I finish boxing, I mean. If you come. We could have a drink later, anyway_ ’

    ‘ _Or not. Whatever you want. I finish at eight. Oh, by the way, that. I start at seven and finish at eight. If you want to come in, you have to do it with me_ ’

    Ryan laughs when he sees the triple text, seeing Brendon didn’t send the direction in any of them. He writes a quick ‘I’m calling’ and waits for him to receive it before he leans back on the couch and lies down on it. Brendon picks up the phone almost at the same time Hilda throws herself over Ryan, jumping and landing right on his belly, making him grunt.

    “You alright?” Brendon asks from the other side, so Ryan guesses the first thing he’s heard it’s been his body trying not to throw up his guts. Ryan looks at Hilda with a murdering face but he ends up scratching her head, letting her stay where she is.

    “Yeah. Don’t worry. Hilda has just thrown herself over me and I think she put my stomach and my spine together but, apart from that, everything’s great.” Ryan jokes.

    “Hilda?” Brendon asks with an amused tone.

    “Katharine Hilde Krueger Grossmann.” Ryan clarifies, laughing a little. “That’s her full name, but she’s Hilda to her friends.”

    “Oh, I see.” Brendon laughs with him. “I’m guessing it’s another one of your dogs because I doubt you have the actress there with you.”

    “Do you know her?” Ryan asks surprised, looking at Hilda and scratching behind her ears. “As I said. Full of surprises.”

    “I like your dogs’ names. I guess you’re making up for your name being Ryan, which is like the less original name in the world,” Brendon jokes, and Ryan makes a sound with his throat, pretending to be offended.

    “I was gonna say I could introduce them to you some day, my dogs. But I think I’m going to save the offer, seeing this insult.”

    “Noooo!” Brendon hurries to deny and Ryan can just laugh because of the urgency in his tone. “Come on, Ry. You know I love your name. It’s awesome, a perfect name. Also, I like how it sounds when… Wait. Shit.” Ryan can hear Brendon walking and he recognizes the sound of wood under his feet. He almost whines a little because he liked where the conversation was going. Brendon is good at flattering and there’s nothing Ryan likes more than being flattered. “Okay, all good. Sorry.”

    “Are you busy?” Ryan asks, because he didn’t really give Brendon time to answer his message before calling him and he could be interrupting.

    “No, it’s okay, I’m alone. It’s just that my food almost gets burnt.” Brendon laughs. “It’s a little stuck, but I can eat it.”

    “Oh, I’m waiting for my food. Honey-togarashi chicken wings. Have you ever tried them?”

    “Motherfucker.” Brendon answers, and Ryan can’t help raising his eyebrows and burst out laughing. “I don’t even know what is that like but just the name sounds delicious. And in the meantime I have to settle for Mac and Cheese.”

    “It’s on my diet menu, it’s not really my election.” Ryan answers half apologizing, even though he doesn’t have to, but still laughing. “The rolls and Yangzhou rice I ordered as side dish are, though.” He adds, laughing more when Brendon swears and grunts, murmuring something like ‘elite athletes’ with sarcasm. “I’d tell you to come and share it with me but I don’t want you to leave your Macs there. Also, I just ordered for one. Next time.”

    “You keep it up with the promises, Ross. You still have to lend me that car of yours. And don’t you think I’ll let this pass. I want to try those whatever you said chicken wings.”

    “Honey-togarashi. Deal.”

    They end up talking until the doorbell rings and Ryan has to go for his food and pay to the delivery person, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear as he tells how good it smell and hears Brendon swearing over and over again on Ryan’s way to his dining room. They eat with the hands-free device on and Ryan promise to order for two the next time he has to eat that, but they’ll have to wait a week because the dietician doesn’t let him repeat dish.

    He doesn’t know how much time they keep talking, but the remains of food are on Zep’ stomach and Aunt Em has taken the plastic container where the chicken was and she’s quartering it with her teeth when Ryan remembers why he was calling and asks Brendon the direction of the place where he’s taking classes. It’s not far from Brendon’s house; he usually goes there on skate too. However, it is still an area where it’s better not to leave anything valuable on display, so Ryan accepts when Brendon suggests leaving the car on the parking again and going by walk together. He was going to go with him anyway, so it’s fine with him.

    They’re talking nonsense when Brendon says between laughs: ‘Hey, gotta hang up, okay? I should be studying’, and Ryan feels his whole body protests, his skin, his stomach, because he really wanted to keep talking with him. He’s going to ask for what he should be studying, but Brendon’s already saying goodbye and Ryan just lets out a ‘see you later’ because, actually, he’s going to see him in a while and he can ask then. When he takes the phone from his ear —because having it on speaker phone is a pain in the ass, it gives off feedback sometimes and Ryan only uses it when necessary (also he has talked things with Brendon he can’t risk anyone to hear)— he can see the mark of it on the screen and that side of his face is hot from having the device so much time against his skin.

    His eyes grow wide when he looks at the clock and sees that the ‘see you later’ should have been more like a ‘see you in a few’. It’s four in the afternoon and he can’t believe he’s been talking for three whole hours with Brendon when he just wanted to ask for directions. In fact, he doesn’t even remember what they talked about, just that they’ve been talking nonsense and going nowhere. It seems like a time-space vortex opened and he fell there as they talked, almost like when he plays hockey and loses every sense of time.

    Ryan has time to have a shower and get dressed, taking the dogs for a walk again because it’s probable he comes back late and he can’t do it then, and getting dressed again because, for some reason, Ryan doesn’t seem to find the right clothes to wear. At first he thought about something comfy, something he would wear to practice, but then he thought they wouldn’t go just to practice, they were going to have dinner too, have a drink. Ryan has always been a person who takes seriously his image, so he takes longer than he thought to find a combination of clothes that will do in a gym, a pizza place and a bar.

    Brendon’s house it’s half an hour away from his own and when he gets there, Brendon’s waiting at the outside door with a huge smile and the bag hanging over his shoulder. Ryan can’t say he’s not disappointed to see him in long sweatpants and hoodie. He wanted to see those shorts. Brendon gets in the car, giving him the resident parking permit and going with him.

    “Keep it.” He says when Ryan is going to give it back. “It’ll be long until I can use it and I don’t think I’d live here by then, anyway. Cassie is not going to come in a long time, so…” He shrugs, playing it down. “You’re the only one that uses the parking. This way when you come, you can park and go up directly.”

    Ryan accepts the explanation as he gets back his wallet and puts the permit in, preferring not to question the fact that Brendon’s offering him a part of his life just because, and that he’s sure Ryan is going to visit him another time and not just drop him after leaving the stadium. It’s not a ridiculous idea, anyway, given how the situation is going.

    The place is not far and Brendon makes sure to do the way more enjoyable anyway, telling Ryan when he started, how and all of that. He tells him he met Rubén shortly after he moved in, and he signed up for his classes as soon as he knew Rubén taught them. He allows him to join the class when Brendon needs it and he only has to pay for the hours he’s used when the month ends, which is a huge perk.

    Brendon never thought about boxing until he was given the opportunity. He really doesn’t care about the sport he does but, as he says, he needs to “exhaust himself” the days he doesn’t have classes or work.

    “That way I can get home and sleep. If I still have a lot of energy I spend hours tossing and turning in bed. And it’s not like I could call someone to meet or just talk.” He explains, moving his hands as he speaks. “It’s unpleasant, being at home awake and alone, in the middle of the night.”

    Ryan feels the impulse of telling him he can call him, but he stops himself because it would be a lie. Brendon can’t call him in the middle of the night, Ryan keeps a strict schedule the most of the time and he wouldn’t want to bail on Brendon if he called him sometime when Ryan couldn’t answer, so he shuts his mouth and just nods like he understands.

    The gym is small but it’s well set up, or so Ryan thinks. The truth is that he knows little about boxing. Rubén greets them when they come in and Brendon explains to him that Ryan is going to stay there while he practices. Rubén offers them take the class with him and Ryan regrets wearing jeans and t-shirt instead of practice clothes.

    “I could have lent you something if I had known.” Brendon comments, wrinkling his face as he puts the wrap on his hands. “I didn’t think you were interested in boxing. Practicing, I mean.”

    “I like everything sports-related,” Ryan answers, his eyes fixed on the expert way Brendon moves the wrap around his hand without really paying attention, covering it and ending at his forearm.

    “You can watch now and learn for the next time.” Brendon smiles, winking at him then and taking off his pants to reveal those shorts he talked about, pointing then to the gym area. “First it’s 20 minutes of warm up there. Pushups, crunches, rope and exercise ball, plus some techniques I can explain to you, if you want. Then we go to the sack, punching ball and floor to ceiling ball. The last ten minutes are stretching and relaxation.” He explains, taking the hoodie off and leaving it aside, wearing just a sleeveless shirt. “On Sundays people don’t use to come, less at this hour, so you can stay close at some bench. Rubén will pass by from time to time, but I have the practice under control.”

    It seems like Brendon does boxing without contact, and now it makes sense because Ryan thought it was weird Brendon liked a sport where he has to punch another person. Brendon talks during the twenty minutes of warm up, telling him things about every exercise, boxing anecdotes and things like that, and he just stops when he has to get the exercise ball because, if Brendon is able to use it and talk at the same time, Ryan resigns. He hasn’t known anyone with such lung capacity they can jump the robe and making jokes at the same time without even gasp. He sings too, of course, and Ryan allows himself to do it with him sometimes when there’s no one around and he knows the song. It’s fun; Brendon makes being sat seeing him practicing be fun.

    It stops being ‘fun’ when Brendon goes to the sack, putting the gloves on after getting out the phone to play some music on it, apologizing to Ryan for not being able to keep up with the conversation because these exercises require concentration. Ryan is not going to complain, not at all. Seeing that side of Brendon, frowning and his eyes focused, his whole body tense as he moves around the sack, punching it over and over again, is something totally new and fascinating. He goes to the punching ball and the floor to ceiling ball, showing some reflex Ryan would have never suspected, and he goes back to the sack when his hair is soaked in sweat and dripping, the shirt totally sticking to his skin.

    “Ry, do you mind?” Brendon says suddenly, interrupting Ryan’s thoughts. When he looks at him, Brendon is pointing to his shirt with the gloves. “I can’t with these and it’s stupid to take them off just to put them on again.” He explains, and Ryan understands he’s asking for help to take off his shirt. He nods as he gets up, walking towards Brendon and grabbing the shirt. “I know I stink of sweat right now. Sorry,” he laughs and Ryan gestures with his head, starting to pull the clothing off.

    “Don’t worry. It’s okay,” he answers, and he can’t help his voice getting out a little hoarse. It’s not his fault, it’s just that Brendon is sweating and gasping just a few inches away from him, that he’s undressing Brendon in the middle of the gym and it’s been two days since he touched him. It’s not that long, actually, Ryan used to have more control over himself with these things, and he wasn’t even one of those that looked for a fuck every day. However, well… _Brendon_.

    He looks at him when he finishes with the shirt, letting it drop to the floor and swallowing because Brendon looks at him back directly and unashamed. Ryan knows everything that prevents him from pushing him against the nearest wall and lifting him up around his waist as he kisses him roughly, but not for that Ryan’s mind stops sending him those images over and over again as he looks at him. Brendon laughs as if he could see what he’s thinking through his eyes, hitting him on his belly softly but hard enough to make Ryan step back.

    Brendon doesn’t say anything and it’s always weird when Brendon chose to stay silent instead of talking. He goes back to the sack and keeps doing his exercises, and Ryan sits on the bench once again, looking at Brendon’s chest shining with sweat, how the muscles show with every hit, how his body moves to the music beat like he were dancing instead of practicing. He was right, by the way, about those shorts fitting perfectly, the seam helping to frame the curve of his ass, the front not as loose now as it was a few minutes before, telling Ryan he’s not the only one who thought about filthy things as he undressed Brendon.

    He feels himself tight inside his jeans as he watches Brendon, and it doesn’t get better when the practice ends and Brendon starts to do the stretching needed before he can finish. They are inoffensive at first, neck, arms, and legs. But Brendon kneels to stretch his back, he leans forward and comes back to arch like a cat, and Ryan has to look away if he doesn’t want to have a problem right there in the middle of the gym.

    “Hey.” Brendon calls him, pointing with his head somewhere in the room. “I’m gonna take a shower and change, and we’re leaving, okay?” He says as he gets his shirt and puts it in the bag with his gloves, unrolling the wrap of his hands.

    Ryan nods, and he lasts exactly three seconds, waiting for Brendon to start walking towards the direction he pointed, before he gets up and follows him close. He doesn’t know if Brendon realizes, it doesn’t seem so, but Ryan it’s not going to stay there waiting for Brendon to come out when he can go with him. He has no intention of doing anything, of course. It doesn’t cross his mind to grab Brendon’s waist and turning him around as he steps into the locker room, pushing him against the door and bite his mouth, taste the salt on his tongue as he licks down his neck, sticking his hand into the shorts. It doesn’t cross his mind, he just does it, and he’ll think about it later.

    If he were thinking clearly he’d know it’s not the best idea, doing that in the gym’s locker room where anyone could walk on them at any moment. He should know because they have already done something that risky once and Ryan wanted to punch himself when he thought about it cold headed. But it’s hard to think when he has Brendon squeezed against the shower’s tiles, holding himself on the pillar that separates the cubicle with one hand and tangling the other one through Ryan’s hair as he swallows him down all he can, holding Brendon in place with three fingers inside his body.

    Brendon still has his cheeks flushed red and the lips swollen when they get out of there, and both of them laugh like kids when they are at a safe distance. They’ve been lucky there were few people and no one decided to get in the locker room in that moment. Ryan thinks he’s never been so careless in his life, and his heart still beats quickly when they are half way to Brendon’s house.

    “Rubén is gonna kill me next time he sees me.” Brendon comments with half smile. “He already told me no fucking in the locker room.”

    “Technically, we didn’t fuck,” Ryan corrects, and it’s true, they didn’t, mostly because the condoms were in the wallet and the wallet was in his jeans, which remained lying in the middle of the locker room since they started tearing off their clothes before entering the showers. Ryan doesn’t even know how they were clever enough to lock the door before they started eating themselves alive. What Brendon said takes a while to finally sink in and he looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Rubén… he knows you’re…”

    “Oh. Yeah. Everyone… everyone around me knows I’m gay, yes. It’s just work. No one wants a gay physio.” He says, playing it down with a gesture, looking then at Ryan and wrinkling his face. “Don’t worry. Rubén is not a hockey guy, he doesn’t know who you are. If you were a soccer player, though, you’d be fucked.” He laughs, shrugging. “Although Rubén doesn’t care. In fact, the thing in the locker room was about a little accident that happened like a year ago.”

    “You fucked someone in the locker room?” Ryan asks, his eyes opening wide. He doesn’t really know why he’s scandalized, it’s not like they didn’t do exactly the same just a few minutes ago. He shouldn’t expect being the first person Brendon does those things with, as much as Brendon is the first guy Ryan does it with.

    “Technically… Yes, technically yes.” Brendon finishes the sentence laughing, shrugging a little then. “Let’s say Rubén caught us finishing.” He clarifies, laughing more. Ryan laughs too, clearing his throat because it seems like there’s something stuck there.

    “It looks like you have a predisposition to get caught finishing,” he answers, referring to that first time Ryan walked into him with that guy in the restroom. He tries to ignore the strange feeling he gets in his belly thinking about Brendon with another guy in that locker room, doing more than he did with him in the same place. It doesn’t make sense, Brendon can do whatever the fuck he wants, and he could do it a year before. It’s not like Ryan hasn’t done riskier things with girls.

    When they get back to Brendon’s place, Ryan can see he wasn’t exaggerating when hung up on him this afternoon saying he had to study. The desk next to the wall that Ryan had always seen tidy and with the books on a pile is now totally covered in papers, notes, highlighters and pens, as well as there are open books over the table and all over the floor.

    “It’s a mess, I know. I have an important mid-term test tomorrow.” Brendon explains, referring to the mess. “That, by the way. We can’t stay out until late. I mean, _I_ can’t. I have to keep studying,” he says, making an apologize gesture with his face.

    “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Ryan hurries to say, playing it down. “If you had to study you shouldn’t have told me yes about going out. I’d have understood.”

    “No, it’s cool. Really. I usually study at night. And, I don’t know, I wanted to see you,” Brendon comments just like that, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to change into more appropriate clothes and we’re leaving, okay?”

    Ryan just nods, maybe because it’s what he’s used to do, but as Brendon turns around and goes towards the room he has an idea. Maybe it isn’t appropriate, to take the liberty, but as he thinks about it he’s already looking for the nearest pizza place on internet and calling it to order. He doesn’t even know what kind of pizza Brendon likes, which is a bummer, but he hopes there’s something he likes within the five different kinds he ends up ordering. They aren’t going to eat all of them, but there are fridges for something.

    When Brendon steps out of the room Ryan is waiting for him on the couch, and Brendon looks at him like he doesn’t know what he’s doing there, considering they’re supposed to go out. Ryan smiles, gesturing him to come closer with his hand.

    “I had a better idea,” he says when he has Brendon in front of him, grabbing his waist and pulling him so he sits down next to him. “I ordered food. We stay here watching a movie or talking or whatever and then you study. I can even help,” he says, nodding with his head. It doesn’t have to be that hard, in the end, it’s related with sport and Ryan knows a lot about sport. “What’s the exam about?”

    “Applied biomechanics.” Brendon answers, bursting out laughing when Ryan’s face changes like he just spoke in Chinese. “You can help me anyway, I’ll give you the notes and you ask me.” He says and that sounds better to Ryan. Brendon smiles, looking at him for a few seconds and sighing. “You sure you don’t mind?”

    “Pizza and beer are on their way. We’re gonna have dinner and a drink. We’re actually doing everything we planned,” Ryan answers, shrugging.

    Brendon smiles wider, with his eyes soft and warm, and Ryan kisses back when he kisses him because there’s no way he can’t do it. They keep kissing like that, lying down on the couch trying not to get too carried away because the delivery person has to come anytime soon, but not really caring about it. Ryan doesn’t remember doing something like that since he was fifteen, just kissing and rubbing a little against each other without their hands ending up into each other pants in five minutes top. And he doesn’t know why, really. The feeling is nice; he likes it.

    The delivery guy comes and Brendon laughs hard when his face shows clearly he didn’t expect just two people to get five pizzas and a pack of beers. It turns out Brendon likes all of them so they end up eating on the floor to have every one of them opened. They experiment with them, mixing slices of pizza and eating them together, leaving half of the food there and trying not to spill the beer when they end up rolling on the floor with Brendon wanting to clean his stained fingers on Ryan face and Ryan holding him, bringing them to his mouth in the end.

    Ryan offers to collect everything when they finish, letting Brendon study for a while. The house grows silent considering the racket they had before, with the only sound of the kitchen furniture as Ryan cleans and the pages Brendon turns. Brendon moves his things to the couch to be next to Ryan there when he finishes cleaning, leaving some books on the floor and the rest on his legs.

    “You don’t have to stay if you’re bored. I can study alone,” Brendon says, looking at him guilty.

    “Do you want me to go?” Ryan asks, because he doesn’t want to disturb him, but Brendon shakes his head no and Ryan remembers all the times he said he doesn’t like to be alone. “Then I’ll stay.” He answers, smiling when Brendon does. “Actually, come here.” He says making a gesture and shifting on the couch, leaning back a little against the seat and letting Brendon recline against him, bringing his hands to Brendon’s shoulders and starting to massage. “Today I’m going to be the masseur and you’re going to study.”

    Brendon laughs and says something about not being a ‘masseur’, but he doesn’t move or complains, he stays where he is and keeps studying while Ryan massages him trying to do a good job. And, while they are there in silence, a part of him wants to ask Brendon if someone has done something like this, if he’s the first or has been others before, like in the locker room. He wants to be. Ryan doesn’t know why, but he wants to be the first, the only one even, who offers something new to Brendon, something original, something that makes him memorable. However, on the other hand, he doesn’t want to think Brendon has never found anyone who appreciated him enough to do something like this for him. He wants Brendon to have had everything, but at the same time he wants to be able to give him something unique, and the thought is so contradictory and weird he prefers to shut his mouth and just let it be.

    He ends up staying the night, getting into Brendon’s bed and inside him, inside his body, his skin and his mind, leaving scratching marks and bites, falling down exhausted without worrying about falling asleep tangled together. It’s been long since Ryan stopped looking for an explanation to how comfortable he feels around Brendon and how it made him stay where he would go in another situation, surrendering to it and letting it be.

 

*

 

    During the following days, Ryan loses count of all the times he meets Brendon or just talk to him just because he wants to. He doesn’t know when or how it has gone from meeting just for sex to meet for anything and just to be with him for a while, spend time together. The sex is still there almost every time, mostly because they seem unable to keep their hands to themselves when they’re in the same room, but Ryan is very aware of those times they just talk, laugh, see a movie or do nothing together. Being with Brendon is easy; it feels good, so Ryan doesn’t think about anything more than keep doing what he’s doing.

    It’s Sunday afternoon, Ryan has just finished eating and the dogs are sprawled over the room’s floor, sleeping or biting whatever they had found on the floor, nothing dangerous, Ryan checked it out. He’s bored, very bored, changing channels on the TV over and over again but not seeing anything, huffing and looking at the watch every five minutes to see if, by any chance, hours pass faster.

    Spencer was with Linda and the rest of the guys had things to do on his own, so Ryan was there without a plan. And, usually, he doesn’t mind staying at home and doing nothing, but today is one of those days that, whatever he does, nothing entertains him and he gets bored just breathing. What Ryan really feels like, what he really wants to do, is skating. He always feels like skating. Maybe he should use the almost empty basement to make an ice rink. Probably it won’t be possible, but he likes the idea. He has the space, anyway.

    To be honest with himself, there’s another thing he feels like as much as skating, or more, and that’s totally new. Seeing Brendon. It hasn’t been so long since the last time they saw each other and he doesn’t have that stretch on his skin and heat in his belly just thinking about seeing him, wanting to grab him and eat him up until his lips hurt. It’s more like a strange longing, almost nostalgia, thinking about wanting to call him just to hear him, seeing him, spend some hours with him just because.

    An idea occurs to him suddenly, making Ryan jump from the couch, going to one of the rooms where he keeps some old hockey things, checking his memory doesn’t fail him and he has some old skates still in good condition. He gets them and goes back to the living room to get the phone, looking for the conversation with Brendon quickly and sending him a message to tell him to be ready in an hour. And wear gloves.

    He knows the rink is closed on Sundays, but the security guys know him and being Ryan Ross has some perks, so he won’t have any problem to get in. He smiles when Brendon answer just a ‘deal’ and goes back to the room, first at his own to change clothes and put black sweatpants on and his team hoodie. Then, he goes to the same room as before to get a couple of sticks and a bag and some pucks, because he can get in the rink but he can’t use the equipment, and his idea includes seeing Brendon playing hockey. He gets everything, fills the dog’s bowls up with food and water and he says goodbye to them, being ready in a while and getting the bag in the back seat of the car before he gets in and starts the engine.

    He took less than half an hour to get ready, so he gets to Brendon’s door ten minutes earlier than expected. Brendon opens the door with a huge smile and pulls him in without even a greeting, kissing him briefly before he lets him go and walks inside again, starting to say something about him having to borrow the gloves because the ones he had were too small and they also had a hole in one of the thumbs. He asks Ryan if the clothes are fine, but he adds immediately not to answer him, because he likes surprises and he wants this to be one because he’s not used to them.

    It’s like entering into a parallel universe where the quietness and calm don’t exist and there are just words’ earthquakes and energy and huge smiles. Ryan can see Brendon’s bag on the couch, next to a boxing glove, the other one on the floor.

    “Oh.” He says, remembering suddenly that Brendon’s boxing classes are on Sundays. “You have boxing today.” It’s not a question but a statement, although his tone deflates a little when he realizes he’s not going to have Brendon as much as he hoped. Brendon looks at him, turning his head towards the couch then and walking to get the things on it.

    “I had. It’s okay, I can skip one class,” he says, smiling at Ryan and taking his things to the room, leaving the door open to come back. Ryan follows him with his eyes and bites the smile that shows on his lips, sticking his hands on his pockets and waiting for Brendon.

    “I didn’t remember. Sorry.” Ryan apologizes, even though he feels a warm sensation swirling in his belly that doesn’t seem caused by being sorry. “You can go. We’ll take less time or whatever.”

    “I’m not going to go boxing when I can be with you. Come on.” Brendon answers like it was obvious and Ryan was crazy for even thinking otherwise. “I don’t need anything else, do I?”

    Ryan smiles slowly, looking down for a moment and wrinkling his face because he doesn’t understand why Brendon makes him feel like this. He looks up then and laughs, shaking his head no.

    “No, not really.” He jokes, doing a presumptuous gesture. “You have everything you need.”

    Brendon nods, walking towards the door and getting the keys from the desk, slapping Ryan ass as he passes by and laughing while he opens the door and waits for him to go out to the parking. Ryan steps out of the house still with the smile on but this time more because of thinking about taking Brendon to the rink than anything else, even more now that he’s seen how much surprises excite him.

    They go to the car and get in as they talk about everything and nothing, Brendon telling him things about the university, his projects, his classmates and that teacher that seems to be an asshole and Brendon can’t stand. Ryan listens to him because he’s learnt it’s something they’re good at, Brendon talks and he listens, laughing when Brendon says some stupidity or makes voices or just laughs himself, making Ryan do the same.

    It’s weird because, although Ryan knows he has learnt a lot of things about Brendon in this time they’re seeing each other and talking, he has the feeling there’s a million more he doesn’t have a clue. Brendon does that, talks to you and makes you believe you know everything about him, but then you go back home and think and you realize that, actually, you know very little. When Ryan started to know him he heard stories about him from his teammates and there were often details that didn’t match. Now he realizes that probably no one knows as much about Brendon as they believe, just what he wants them to know. Ryan feels something strange on his chest as he thinks maybe he knows more than anyone else.

    When they get to the stadium his car is the only one in the parking lot, obviously, so he parks near the door, turning off the engine and looking at Brendon to see his reaction. Brendon looks back at him and laughs, clearing his throat a little and taking the gloves out of his pocket, putting them on dramatically.

    “I’m not gonna say I didn’t expect it.” He says, battling his eyelashes when he looks at Ryan. “The other option was taking me skiing, but I don’t think you had the intention of making me go in jeans,” he adds, laughing a little more. Ryan laughs too and licks his lips, shrugging.

    “I’m a little predictable, I know.” He admits, looking between Brendon and the stadium before stopping his eyes on Brendon. “You told me you knew how to skate, but you didn’t say anything about playing hockey.”

    Brendon bursts out laughing, bringing his hands to his face for a moment, looking at Ryan then again with a raised eyebrow.

    “Oh, God. You’re gonna teach me how to play? I know nothing about hockey.” He says, watching Ryan closely with the smile that refuses to leave his face. “I have to warn you, I’m a terrible student. I told you. I get distracted and I don’t pay attention and end up doing things my way.”

    “Oh, don’t worry.” Ryan says, smirking. “I have methods for you to pay me attention. Come on.” He gestures with his head, opening the door and getting off the car to get the bag in the backseat.

    As they walk into the stadium Ryan can see, almost feel, how excited Brendon is, content. He walks by little jumps, laughing and walking faster, grabbing Ryan’s arm sometimes to pull him with him, taking long to release him when Ryan’s on his side. It’s not until they’re inside when Brendon grimaces, bringing his hand to his face and looking at Ryan a little worried.

    “Wait. I don’t have skates. Can I step into the rink without them?” He asks, frowning a little, like he was preparing his face to show the deception when Ryan answers.

    “I brought ones of mines.” He says to him, smiling and brushing Brendon’s hair a little, letting his fingers massage there for a few seconds. “They may be a little big for you, maybe. But tighten them just fine and it should do.”

    “Oh.” Brendon makes a surprised face, smiling again and pulling of Ryan once more. “Then let’s go.”

    Ryan laughs as he follows him, getting through the doors and entering with steps that echo in the huge, silent room. The security guard did him a favor and turned a couple of spotlights on, but the rink has less light than it usually does. They go towards the benches next to the ice entrance, sitting on them and Ryan leaves the bag on the floor and opens it to get the skates and give them to Brendon.

    “I brought you shoulder pads and knee pads, too. They’re not like the ones we use to play so they don’t weight much, but it’ll be enough if you have a rough fall. I don’t want to have to explain a death in the stadium,” he jokes, taking the protections out for Brendon.

    “I’m not gonna fall.” Brendon answers confident, getting the things Ryan brought him and starting to put them on, holding the jeans out of the way to put the skates on and tight them, starting with the protections then. “Did you bring me that thingy you use to play?” He asks, calling the stick ‘thingy’ on purpose because Ryan knows Brendon knows its name. He also knows that Brendon is well aware of his hate for everyone who doesn’t call it by its name, so he looks at him harsh, trying to look upset even though he’s not.

    “How do you plan to play otherwise?” Ryan says, finishing with his skates and getting his hand into the bag to take a stick out, leaving it on the floor and taking the other one out. “The first thing you have to know about hockey is that it’s a contact sport.” He says, smiling knowingly, “so yeah, you’re going to fall. The rest I’ll tell you as we go.” He finishes, tightening his shoulders pads beneath the hoodie and putting it in place before he gets up and takes some pucks out of the bag, throwing them to the ice. Ryan takes both sticks and looks at Brendon from where he is standing in front of him, waiting for him.

    “I’m not gonna fall.” Brendon repeats, getting up and skating towards Ryan, pushing him on the shoulder, “unless you make me. And that would be something wrong for a teacher. Now gimme that thingy if you don’t want me to play with the one I have between my legs.” He adds wiggling his eyebrows suggestive, laughing. Ryan laughs too and hits him softly with the stick on his chest as a revenge for calling it thingy again, giving it to him then.

    “We’ll let that one for another play.” He says, getting into the ice and starting to skate backwards with his eyes still on Brendon, raising his voice for him to hear. “If I’m going to teach you, I have to do it well, Bren. I promise I’ll be nice and won’t hurt.” He mocks, starting to skate around Brendon when he enters the rink, not so close to his body.

    Brendon laughs, skating towards him with the stick on his hand, playing the fool and hitting the first puck he finds on his way. He doesn’t calculate the movement and hit it too hard, almost losing his balance. He laughs at himself as a blush rises up his cheeks, and he gets where Ryan is making a ‘good boy’ face.

    “Did you see that? I’m an ace.” He says, pointing to the puck that’s further away than the rest of them. Ryan smiles and moves on the skates, sliding until he’s behind Brendon, putting both hands on his hips, one of them still with the stick, and getting closer to his body than he really needs to explain him something, just wanting to feel him close, putting his chin in Brendon’s shoulder to speak.

    “If you bend your knees when you hit the puck.” He says, pushing down with his hands and making him do it, “and strengthen your thighs, you’ll have more stability.”

    “Okay, teacher.” Brendon nods, placing the stick again and hitting the air, doing what Ryan told him. “Like that?”

    “Exactly.” Ryan answers, drawing back from his body and moving in front of him once again. “It might look like it’s not, but it’s easier the faster you go.” He says to him, starting to skate backwards and making a signal to Brendon to make him follow. He reaches out with the stick to get another puck, handling it. “Why don’t you try to take it from me?”

    Brendon laughs and moves fast towards him, going totally determined and careless to get the stick right in the middle and steal the puck. In a quick move, Ryan slides the puck to the side and puts the stick in front of it, making Brendon’s hit his with a hard sound that echoes in the room. The inertia makes Brendon keep going, crashing with Ryan’s body and holding onto him so he doesn’t fall. He laughs but he keeps moving the stick as much as he can, trying to hit the puck and not falling all at once. Ryan laughs as he sees him trying, moving away from his body but reaching out with his arm to hold him and not make him fall when he loses the support.

    “Watch the movement of my stick.” He says to him, moving so the puck keeps close to it. “The key it’s not in the puck, but my next movement. If you intercept that, the puck is yours.”

    Brendon gets the stability back and tries once again, looking at the stick as Ryan said, moving his own like he’s attempting to do it but not really trying. He laughs every time he’s going to move but he ends up not doing it, watching how Ryan moves the puck, how he moves himself. He tries a couple of times, failing but doing it better, not going for it without thinking, and Ryan can feel how he wants to steal him the puck more and more.

    “It’s not fair. You play for the NHL, Ryan.” He says as he tries once more, bursting out laughing when Ryan makes a clean and easy move to escape from his attack, making it seem almost ridiculous.

    “I can let you win if you want.” Ryan says with a smile, mocking him kindly. “Come on, you almost have it. You’re about to steal it.”

    Brendon laughs more and shakes his head no, bringing his forearm to his forehead to clean the sweat there, trying again and doing it better this time but without result. Ryan can see something changing in his eyes; the problem is he doesn’t exactly sees what. Brendon skates hard, sliding fast, laughing loudly before Ryan can see him throw the stick, launching himself at Ryan and losing his balance, falling down to the ice but getting Ryan’s stick too to throw it away. Laughing like a maniac, Brendon crawls through the ice, moving until he gets to the puck, grabbing it with his hands and letting out a happy shout when he raises it.

    “Yes! Yes, I got it! It’s mine!” He shouts, moving the puck in the air and doing a victory gesture while he keeps lying on the floor. Ryan bursts out laughing and stops next to him so he doesn’t step on him or stumbles, just doing it when he gets the stability back after the crash. Ryan looks at Brendon from above leaning with his hands on his knees, still laughing and shaking his head.

    “I’ll take it you’re bored of trying.” He comments, reaching out with his hand as an offer to Brendon so he can help him stand up. “Want to try something more fun?”

    “I’m not bored, I just tried a different technique.” Brendon answers, laughing and taking Ryan’s hand to get up. “But I’m open to anything you want to suggest.”

    Ryan smiles big and goes for the sticks again, coming back to Brendon and starting to skate around him once more like a buzzard and his prey.

    “Do you prefer to do shots? Or one against one? I’ll be nice this time.” He says, getting a couple of pucks and bringing them to the center of the rink, just on the center line. Brendon skates towards him and takes one of the sticks, moving around a little.

    “Whatever you want. I don’t… Ohhh. Wait.” He says suddenly, using the stick to line the pucks up, going back to Ryan so he can give him the stick and going away once more. He separates a good distance, looking at the pucks and running up, launching himself to jump over them, falling right at the edge of them but not falling down. He keeps moving and looks back to see the line, straightening up and raising his hands, yelling. “Whoooo! Did you see that?”

    Ryan laughs, looking at him really impressed because he knew Brendon could skate, but one thing is skating and another is handling skates to certain things without losing stability. He shakes his head, wondering if Brendon would cease to impress him some time, before he throws the sticks to the ice and goes towards him, grabbing his wrist and pulling Brendon with him when he starts to skate around the rink, speeding up more and more.

    “You don’t want to learn how to play hockey.” He says, feeling the cold air hitting his face because of the speed, not letting Brendon go. “You want to do acrobatics. Let’s see what you can do.” Ryan says to him, letting go of him and passing him. He jumps and turns around, skating backwards now so he can see Brendon in front of him. Brendon laughs, keeping up with the speed and skating hard, shrugging as he tries to get closer to Ryan.

    “I can do both. Hockey with acrobatics.” He says, joking, raising one leg up at his back, leaning in and opening his arms like he’s a dancer. He jumps with a single foot when he straightens up, doing the same turn as Ryan and staying next to him. “But I can learn. Hockey. If you want.” He says looking at him and grabbing him so he can turn without losing the speed, facing him once more. “Although I could never reach your level and it would be boring for you, and frustrating for me, don’t you think?”

    “Hockey is never boring for me.” Ryan answers, holding Brendon with both hands, entangling his fingers with Brendon’s. “If you want to learn, I teach you. If you prefer to just skate, I don’t mind either.”

    Brendon looks at him for a few seconds, averting his eyes to his hands where Ryan holds him, going back to his face and licking his lips for a moment, making a soft gesture, almost imperceptible. He pushes himself a little more, moving closer so he can talk lower, with a more normal tone.

    “You want me to learn?” He asks more serious, looking at Ryan then and biting his bottom lip from the inside and the outside. Ryan laughs softly, frowning a little and looking at him as he shakes his head.

    “You want to learn?” He asks, because that’s really what matters. Not that he wants Brendon to learn or not, but what Brendon himself wants. “I don’t mind if you don’t want to, really. I’m okay with being in the ice if you stay with me.” Ryan adds, the words coming out of his mouth sincere. And it’s just as he listens to himself that he realizes how true they are. Ryan could stop skating right now and sits on the ice to freeze his ass out and he would do it if Brendon were here with him. He starts to think there are few things he wouldn’t do if Brendon were there.

    Brendon doesn’t answer at first, just looks at him and keeps skating with Ryan, tightening his hold on his hands like he wanted to prevent Ryan to let go of him. He looks at him like he wanted to learn his face, not just at his eyes though particularly at them, running his eyes over his whole features, with an expression Ryan has never seen before and he can’t read.

    “I can do it. I can learn.” He says when he talks, doing a gesture with his head. “But bit by bit, okay? I mean. There’s a reason Rubén lets me by myself in practice.” He laughs a little, tilting his head. “I’m not good at learning like the rest of the people. It’s like my mind follows another process, you know? But I can learn. I know that.”

    “I know you can.” Ryan says, shrugging. He doesn’t know exactly what Brendon means, but it’s not like he’s an expert neither. “I’m not a teacher, anyway. You can learn however you want and whatever you want. Just tell me where do you want to start.”

    Brendon smiles and nods, smiling bigger and pulling at Ryan’s hands as he slides backwards this time, changing positions. He pulls until they’re at the center of the ring and then he stops abruptly, making Ryan crash against him and getting his leg between Ryan’s on purpose to make him stumble and fall down, ending up on the ice both of them. Brendon lets himself fall completely, letting out a whine and getting a hand under his back to pull out one of the pucks Ryan left there before, laughing sore. Ryan complains too but he laughs, feeling the cold ice wetting his clothes a little.

    “That’s penalty.” He says between laughs, turning his head to look at Brendon, hitting him softly on his skate with his own.

    “Oh, shit.” Brendon laughs, looking at Ryan with a worried face. “And now what? You throw me out? Do you show me a card or something like that? Do I have to pay a penalization?”

    “Two minutes expelled because it was a minor penalty.” Ryan explains, his smile sharpening on the corners. “But, if you find something to pay me with, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

    “I’ll find something.” Brendon laughs, looking at him sideways and turning his head to look at the ceiling, laughing more. He looks at Ryan then and swallows, tightening his jaw and looking away again. “I have a problem.” He says, and laughs again, bringing one hand to his forehead to pull his hair away, looking at his hand awkwardly when he sees he has just got ice on it. Ryan frowns, confused about Brendon comment, and keeps looking at him like he’s doing for a while now, watching him closely like there’s a strange force keeping him from looking away.

    “A problem?” He asks, curious. He doesn’t know if this has something to do with hockey or if Brendon is going to talk about another thing. Anyway, his tone is cautious because he never knows when Brendon is going to end the conversation and stop talking. Brendon looks at him again and laughs more this time, shrugging and shaking his head. He uses his hands to support himself and stand up, grabbing Ryan and pulling so he does too, both of them getting off the floor.

    “Come on. Explain to me how that one against one thing works. I promise I’ll pay attention. All I can.”

    Ryan looks at him during a minute, hesitating. Usually, when Brendon does that changing the conversation without even starting it, Ryan just goes along with it and forgets what he’s said. He wants to respect those things Brendon wants to share with him and those he doesn’t. Now, however, he hesitates. He wants to ask, insist so he says what problem does he have, if he needs help, if it’s serious or he was just going to joke about something. Ryan bites his lip and opens his mouth to ask, even if it’s just once more, but in the last moment he closes it and sighs, looking down for a second and swallowing his words.

    Ryan explains it to him and they keep skating for an hour or more, playing one against one, interrupting the game sometimes just so they can push each other and see who makes the other one fall down first. Ryan bodycheks him against the board on purpose, not making it hard so he doesn’t hurt him, skating away then to avoid Brendon’s revenge. When they leave the rink, both are sweating and almost breathless, laughing between jokes. Ryan thinks it’s the most fun he’s had with someone in a long time.

 

 


	6. Two-Man Advantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sixth chapter. There are six more to go. Thanks for all your kind words and love so far, it means the world to us.

 

 

6.

 

    The Eagles don’t play until next Sunday, what means that they won’t have practice, so the guys plan to meet via text group and talk about when to arrive and what to bring to Derek’s house. The Eagles play against The St. Louis Giants, who are really standing out above the rest too this season, so this will be an important match. They’re all coming, Bob too, what means Derek will behave, at least until Bob goes home. However, Bob usually goes home just after the game has finished and, by the way the guys are talking in the text group, there’s no way they’re going to do the same.

    They joke about the stripper thing, and Derek says again that was just a one time thing, he’s learned his lesson and now he knows it’s better to go directly to a strip club instead of bringing the girls home. That’s fine because that way at least is just Derek the one filling the tabloids instead of the whole team. However, when they talk about bringing along some “girl friends” no one says anything against it, not even Bob, and that’s not what Spencer told Ryan when they talked about this. Not that Ryan minds, he would usually be absolutely happy about it, actually. It’s Spencer the one that seems to need to be as far as possible from any girl since he started dating Linda.

    Now, however, Ryan doesn’t seem to be that interested in any of the girls the guys could bring along, not as much as he would be like months ago. He doesn’t mind if the girls come or not, literally, because he’s not thinking about how the night could end with one of them shaking under him in a nameless room. It’s just that he’s not interested. He doesn’t know if that’s because he’s well served when it comes to sex (not that it has stopped him before), or because he’s too busy thinking about Brendon and how good it feels to be with him in every way possible, not just sexually.

    It’s weird, Ryan’s not used to have just one person capture all of his attention and interest that way, but Brendon has something, a special magnetism that has hypnotized Ryan and doesn’t let him think about anything else except Brendon, having him, knowing him, understand him. It hasn’t happened before with anyone else, that insatiable curiosity, the need of spending time with someone just because it feels so good to do it. It’s weird, but Ryan hasn’t decided yet if that bothers him or not.

    While he thinks about that, it occurs to him that Brendon could come to watch the game with them. Ryan has already explained the basics to him, so he could watch it on TV while Ryan explains it so Brendon learns more and more. It’s a good idea and, besides, Ryan wants to see him, so that morning Ryan grabs his phone and texts Brendon asking him if he’s free and if he’d like to come see the game with the guys at Derek’s. Brendon answers with: “you’re gonna have to explain a lot of things to me, but if Derek’s okay with it…” followed by a few grinning face emojis.

    Ryan didn’t ask Derek if Brendon could come, but it doesn’t really matters. He knows Derek won’t mind, none of them. Well, maybe Spencer would mind if he keeps insisting in behaving like an asshole, but Ryan knows how to deal with Spencer and, after their last conversation, it seems that the thing he has with Brendon is been pushed to the background. He doesn’t seem to like Brendon, but he doesn’t bother Ryan about it. Ryan’s glad about this, because he doesn’t like fighting with his best friend about such a ridiculous thing.

    Ryan texts Brendon back saying this will be part of his classes about hockey, and asks him if he needs Derek’s address or he wants Ryan to pick him up. As usual, Brendon answers he can manage to get there himself, he doesn’t need Ryan to come pick him up. It’s curious, how Brendon always insists on making clear that he’s absolutely self-sufficient, as if Ryan, or anyone actually, would question it if he doesn’t stress it enough.

    Ryan plans to meet Spencer and go to Derek’s together and, when they get there, there’s still a couple of guys left to come but almost everyone is there, with a beer in their hands in front of the huge TV. Aaron and Tom, the ones who weren’t there yet, don’t take long to arrive, and they all gather around the TV, chatting up and talking about the match, some of them making bets about which team will win. Bob says something like less chitchat and more paying attention to the plays, but they all know it’s not an order or anything, he just can’t seem to step out from his coach role even there.

    Ryan gets into a conversation with Blake and Spencer about the Eagles game strategy and their weak spots before the game begins, looking at his phone every now and then to see the time keeps passing and Brendon’s not there yet. He thinks it’s normal, Brendon doesn’t have a car so it will take longer for him to arrive, so he doesn’t think about it too much, but he still keeps his phone close ~~r~~ , just in case it starts vibrating. Spencer looks at him weird a few times, every time he sees Ryan looking at his phone, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

    When it’s about fifteen minutes from the match to start, Ryan decides to text Brendon to check where he is, feeling a little bit anxious seeing he’s not coming. Brendon texts him back almost immediately, saying he’s going back home because the guard didn’t let him come in, and whishing Ryan to have fun watching the game. Ryan makes a face and swears because he didn’t remember the security guy wouldn’t let anyone come in without identification. Spencer gives him a questioning look and Ryan apologizes when he gets up the couch and gets away from the noise while he hits the call button, the name of Brendon flashing on the screen.

    “You’re gonna miss the game, it’s probably starting right now.” That’s the way Brendon greets him when he picks up. “How does it go? Watching two rivals play. Do you bet on it? Do you want the best to win or the worst? I guess the worst, that way it’ll be easier for you later. But, if the worst wins, was it really the worst?”

    “Some of the guys do it, bet on it. I, personally, prefer the best one to win. So it’s a bigger challenge later.” Answers Ryan, smiling a little while he rests his weight on the kitchen counter. “Hey, come back. I didn’t remember the security guy, I’m sorry. I can make him let you in, it’s no problem.”

    “It’s okay, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Says Brendon, laughing. “I’ve been talking with the security guy, actually. He seems nice. I’m half way out of the residential area, this is huge, and it’s cold as fuck.” Brendon says, and Ryan can hear the wind through the phone, distorting the sound. “If I go back now I’ll get there when the match has already started, I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

    “Come on, you would’ve come for nothing. The guys won’t even notice when you come in, the match gets all of their attention. Besides…” Ryan says, not really knowing why he lowers the tone of his voice, making it softer. He bites his lips and swallows because he knows the words that are about to come out his mouth, but doesn’t know how to read the way they feel in his stomach, “I want you to be here. I want to see you.”

    Brendon takes his time to answer; so much Ryan almost would think that the phone line has been cut if he wasn’t still hearing the wind at the other side. When Brendon finally answers, he sighs first and then he lets out a breathy laugh.

    “I’m coming. But if they don’t let me in again…”

    “They will. I promise.” Ryan assures him fast, smiling while he pulls at the threads of his jeans compulsively. “I’m gonna tell them you’re coming back, okay?”

    “Okay. I’ll be there in a while.”

    “See you now.” Ryan says as a goodbye before hanging up. He thinks about talking to Derek to ask him how can he talk to the security guy, but the game is starting and Derek would probably just ignore him, so he decides to figure it out by himself, it can’t be much different than his own house. Taking a look around, it doesn’t take long to find the way to do it, and he talks to the security guy to let him know Brendon’s coming back and that he’s the team physio, so he can let him in.

    Ryan comes back to the living room when it’s done, keeping an eye on the doorbell so he can hear it when Brendon comes, since the rest of the guys are so engrossed in the game they probably won’t even notice. Spencer and Blake are now using the tactics from the game to backup their first argument, and the room is divided between the ones who want the Eagles to win, and the ones who want the Giants. Ryan grabs a beer and sits in the corner of the couch so he can get out easily without bothering the rest.

    Ten minutes go by before Ryan hears the door, Brendon knocking directly at the wood instead of ringing the doorbell, what makes it even harder to hear in the fuss of the game plus the TV at full volume. Ryan gets up the couch and none of the guys notice him going to the door with big steps, maybe because he doesn’t want to miss the match or because he wants to ease that eagerness of having Brendon already there. His smile opens before the door does it, stepping aside to let Brendon in.

    “Hey. Woah, is your house like this too?” Asks Brendon when he gets in, pushing his hands in his pockets and looking around. “I hope I don’t have to go to the bathroom or anything. I could get lost here.”

    “Mine is not as big.” Ryan answers, although he’s not sure if one can really tell the difference, actually. “Derek’s just pretentious.” He closes the door and makes a gesture for Brendon to follow him, going back to the living room and getting a few looks from the guys because it seems they were looking for him.

    “There you are, where did you go?” Asks Tom, pointing at the screen. “You just missed a fucking awesome defense play, dude. Oh, hey.” He adds when his eyes catch Brendon, smiling. “Didn’t know you were coming. Come on, sit, fuckers. The game’s still on.”

    Brendon smiles but doesn’t say a thing, and he sits in one of the free spots in the room, only then getting his hands out of his pockets but letting them over his lap. It’s like he was trying to be quiet, like behaving or something, and it’s absurd because this meetings are the one where the guys use to lose all control. At some other time Ryan’s sure he wouldn’t have notice, but now it’s difficult for him not to relate Brendon’s behavior with the way Spencer’s looking at him from the other side of the room, not even trying to be subtle about it. The rest of the guys say hi disinterestedly and go back to the game while Ryan sits on the couch beside Brendon and hands him a beer, looking back to the screen and trying not to look at his best friend.

    “Spencer.” He says a few seconds later, taking a sip of his beer and pointing at the screen. “You’re gonna have to pay attention to Colton. His defense is a lot better since he recovered form his injury.”

    “Have you seen Rogers? Those motherfuckers are going to make it hard for us.” Spencer says, looking back at the screen. “The Giants are controlling the puck this first period, man. We have to pay attention to this game. I bet it’s going to be a decisive one.”

    Ryan nods and drinks again, paying attention at the following play on the screen before turning his head and look at Brendon, moving his leg to bump Brendon’s lightly.

    “Do you know what are those lines on the rink for?” He asks, because Brendon told him he had no idea about hockey, but he doesn’t want to take him for a fool if he knows the basics.

    “That’s for, when they carry out sobriety checks, the players have to skate following them.” Answers Brendon, smiling wide when he looks at Ryan, bringing his beer to his lips. Ryan laughs out loud, shaking his head and leaving his beer bottle on the floor at his side.

    “Interesting view.” He says, laughing short again before pointing at the screen. “They just divide the ice in zones: the attack zone, the neutral zone, and the defense zone. Those red ones in each end are the goal lines, but we can skate past them, you know that. The one in the middle is the center line, obviously. That one’s also for…”

    “Ry.” Brendon cuts him, putting a hand on Ryan’s leg and taking it away quickly when he realizes what he’s doing. “Don’t worry. Watch the game now. You can teach me all that in my next lesson.” He says, winking subtly at him and then moving his head towards the TV.

    “Oh. Um. Okay.” Ryan says, because he doesn’t really care that much about paying attention to the game, the guys are going to be talking about it for days anyway. But if Brendon wants him to teach him in another moment, it’s fine with him. “Whatever you want,” he adds, keeping his eyes on Brendon for a few more seconds before turning his head to the screen, back to the game. Or back to the TV, actually, because he doesn’t come back to the game until a few minutes later.

    Some of the guys use the first period break to order some food and gather more alcohol, and Ryan feels how Brendon gets closer to him in the couch when he has to move to grab a beer bottle, their legs touching and letting Ryan feel the heat of his body. Brendon moves his head and it looks like he’s going to say something, but the second period starts and Spencer starts talking to Ryan again, telling him about techniques, plays, moves, and Ryan can almost feel Brendon physically lose interest and look back to the game.

    It’s being a really close game, but the Giants are clearly dominating and thwarting every plan they had about how to make their way up to the playoffs. They still can get back in, anyway, and if there’s something about the Eagles is that they’re able to keep their morale high until the end of the game, regardless whatever the scoreboard says. It’s not until the end of the second period when Brendon seems to get back his attention to Ryan, or to show it, anyway, turning his head towards him and leaning in a little bit to whisper in his ear. He can’t say a word though, because Spencer interrupts them again, this time talking directly, and against all odds, to Brendon.

    “I didn’t know you liked hockey, Urie.” He says, leaning back in the sofa with the beer bottle in his hand. “I guess I was wrong. If you came to see the game with us, you must like it a lot. I can’t imagine someone not being passionate about this game and being here with us, hearing us talk about it without understanding a word.”

    “It’s not like you’re speaking a foreign language, is it?” Answers Brendon, shrugging and keeping his smile intact. “You don’t have to be a genius to know what’s going on,” he adds, and Ryan can see how Spencer’s face changes, and he almost can hear the gears working inside Spencer’s head.

    “Yeah? Then tell us, how do you see the game?” Spencer replies with half a smile, and Ryan almost expects Brendon to tense up again like that time in the parking lot. However, this time, Brendon looks at Ryan just for a second, bursting a short laugh and shrugging while he sips on his beer.

    “Not bad, the two first periods have been really even, but the Eagles had too many ejections and the Giants took advantage of that. They still can get back in if they roll up their sleeves, because they have a good offensive strategy. They should try pulling the goalie, that may give them a chance.” He says casually, making a gesture towards the screen then. “By the way, Roger’s not getting back in the game. You see that kid? That’s Josh, the physio. Rogers went directly to talk to him right when the second period finished, before the commercial break. And I saw he made a weird move before, I think he fucked up his arm. So I think you won’t have to worry about him for at least two weeks, according to my calculations,” he adds looking at Ryan, smiling at him. Ryan looks at Brendon with his eyebrows raised in a surprised face, his lips curving into a small smile.

    Before Spencer can say anything, the third period starts and the commentator says Rogers leaves the game due to a minor injury. Spencer shuts his mouth while a few of the guys cheer and hail Brendon, patting his back and saying he should come to watch the games from now on, to tell them about any weak spot he can see in the rival players. Brendon laughs and brags a little, joking with the guys until the conversation shifts back to the game and he can get closer to Ryan again, this time talking when he leans in over his ear.

    “I made my homework, teacher,” he whispers, leaning back to smile at him wider, making a fast move with his eyebrows before bringing his beer bottle to his lips.

    “I see,” Ryan says, laughing incredulous without taking his eyes off of him because he can’t believe this is the same person who said he had no idea about hockey. And Ryan was trying to explain to him what the damned lines were for. “You could have warned me, asshole. So I wouldn’t make a fool out of myself trying to explain things to you before,” he says, elbowing Brendon lightly.

    “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Do you know how many games I’ve seen during this week?” Brendon murmurs, laughing and shaking his head. “Also, I like when you explain things. Your face. Really, you’re adorable,” he says, pouting his lips and looking away to watch the rest of the guys totally absorbed in the game. Ryan’s glad he does that, because he can feel his cheeks getting a little red when he laughs and brings a hand to his hair, tangling this fingers on the locks to mess it a bit more than it is. He clears his throat and takes the bottle to his lips to take a sip because he doesn’t know what to answer to that, and his brain doesn’t seem able to provide him with any help.

    They keep watching the game, some of them cheering when the Giants win and some others scoffing, probably because they lost the bet or, in Spencer’s case, because now he would have to change the whole set of plays he had planned to face the Eagles. It’s not even 20 minutes past the end of the game when the doorbell starts to ring like crazy every couple of minutes and Bob decides it’s time to go home, throwing a warning look at the guys before leaving. The music takes the place of the sound of the game, and the guests that keep coming turn the friends meeting into a proper party.

    Spencer’s about to leave, but the guys convince him to stay and celebrate whatever they say they’re celebrating, because they haven’t won a thing today. Spencer finally agrees, but just because Jeff puts a whiskey bottle in his hands and tells him to drown his sorrows. Brendon looks more cheerful now, like the atmosphere has become relaxed enough for him to start acting like himself again, and he doesn’t take to much time before jumping out of the couch to start talking with everyone, grabbing Ryan’s arm and pulling him up to drink something stronger than another beer.

    The tequila bottle is still unopened, tempting on the kitchen counter, and Ryan doesn’t take too much time before deciding that’s where he wants to start, taking two shot glasses and looking around Derek’s kitchen for the salt and limes. He gets back to Brendon with a disappointed face when he can’t find them, shrugging and looking at Brendon with a playful smile.

    “It seems we have to drink it on its own,” he says, starting to open the bottle while he looks around, everybody gathered in the living room, minding their own business and the music so loud it’s not so different than that first night in the bar.

    “But it was me who had to buy you the drink the next time.” Brendon pouts, his bottom lip standing out, but taking the glasses anyway and placing them before Ryan. “Well. It doesn’t count because this is not a real tequila shot, so I’ll spare you this time.”

    Ryan laughs and fills up the glasses, leaving the bottle on the counter and taking his own to raise it, smiling big.

    “Are we toasting to something?” He asks with a mocking tone, using the same words Brendon used that time at the bar.

    “To Joanna.” Says Brendon, smiling soft and getting a little closer to Ryan so he doesn’t have to raise his voice too much. “That’s how Cassie will name the baby. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be the physio of your team,” he says, and he doesn’t add anything else, but the rest unsaid is there, in the air, and it makes Ryan bite his lip and smile crooked.

    “To Joanna, then,” he says, bringing the glass forward to clink it with Brendon’s. This one laughs and nods before taking his own to his lips, drinking the shot in one gulp and making a face then, just like the first time. He licks his lips with his brow furrowed, snorting a laugh and leaving the glass on the counter.

    “We need salt and lime. Look for them. When you found them, I’ll _buy_ you the one I owed you,” says Brendon, winking at Ryan although he’s using a joking tone. Ryan nods to agree while he feels the alcohol burning his throat and going down to his stomach, giving him goose bumps because of how different it tastes without salt and lime.

    “Done.” He says, flashing a smile when he remembers something. “Besides, we forgot something to toast to,” he adds, not clarifying what he’s taking about. Brendon raises an eyebrow, looking at him curious but not asking what.

    “Surprises, surprises…” He sings, laughing more. He stares at Ryan for a few seconds and it looks like he’s going to say something else, but the music changes and Brendon’s face too, opening his eyes big and pointing at nothing. “I love this song!” He says, starting to move at its rhythm and making a gesture with his head towards the center of the living room, where there are a few girls and guys dancing. “Come?”

    Ryan laughs and makes a face, looking at the improvised dance floor and then at Brendon. He’s tempted to do it, but dancing is not his strong point, less if there are too many people around. The few times he has danced it has been with a purpose, a purpose he cannot try with Brendon, not where everyone can see them. It’s not that he’s bad at it, but not good either, and his self-consciousness does the rest.

    “Dancing’s not my thing,” he says, smiling at Brendon as an apology.

    “It’s okay.” Brendon says, making a move with his hand and resting his weight on the counter to lean in. “You can always watch,” he adds, smirking before moving away and starting to walk to the living room, getting in the middle of the crowd. All the girls look at him, getting closer immediately and starting to dance with him.

    Ryan laughs while he watches, shaking his head and observing the girls gathering around Brendon, laughing and cheering while he dances. He could watch, he could spend the night watching him, in fact, and he wouldn’t get tired, but he knows he’s not being discreet. So, after a few minutes, he grabs a glass and goes where Spencer still hasn’t released the whisky bottle, smiling at him big when Spencer looks at him and raising his glass in Spencer’s direction. Spencer scoffs but he laughs, filling Ryan’s glass and looking kind of sad at the rest of the liquid in the bottle, barely filling the bottom. Before Ryan can say anything, Spencer warns.

    “It wasn’t just me. These sons of bitches think I’m the barman or something because I have the bottle.” He grunts, bringing the bottle to his lips and drinking what’s left, coughing and moving to the kitchen, making a gesture at Ryan to follow him. “Such a fucking shame, the Eagles, dude. Two weeks of strategies gone to waste.” He says with regret, opening a bottle of vodka and pouring himself a drink. “I have to take this chance.” He says, pointing at the glass with his head. “I’ve been thinking, and I think it’s time to ask Linda. You know. Getting married. Settle down and all that, my mom says we’re on age. I don’t know about age or shit, Ryan, but… I think she’s the one. I don’t even…” He makes a gesture with his head, going to the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the living room, pointing with his fingers at the girls dancing. “Look. You see that blonde chick? I see her and I say: fuck, she’s hot. But then I start thinking further and it’s like, ugh, no, you know? Because I have my Linda at home. At her home. Wherever. And that’s not. That means she’s forever, right? I mean, can you imagine? It must be difficult for you, but try. That. Not wanting to fuck anyone else or share the bed with anyone else or, I don’t know, go fucking shopping for curtains with anyone else. It’s like, that’s it, you have the right person to do all of that.”

    “I don’t think I’ve drunk enough to have this conversation.” Ryan jokes, laughing but patting Spencer’s back, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him a little, ignoring half of the last sentence and its implications. “If that’s how you feel, man, go for it. It’s been a long time since you have eyes just for Linda, anyway. It doesn’t shock me you want to ask her.” He says, smiling wide. “And your mom’s gonna love it.”

    “My mom…” Spencer looks at him and laughs, twisting his lips and bringing a hand to his face to rub it. “She was talking about grandma’s ring some time ago. Hurry up, she said, or she would have to give it to you.” He says and starts to laugh again, looking at Ryan. “Poor thing. Although, hey, who knows? Have you seen that girl you fucked more than once? That one that you say it’s not always on your mind and I pretend I believe you.”

    Ryan laughs and lowers his gaze to his glass, thinking about how that girl Spencer’s talking about is no girl at all. He feels a lump in his throat that he has learned to identify as guilt, because he can’t help to think he’s lying to his best friend, that he’s been lying to him this whole time. Even if they never have properly talked about the matter, Ryan always let Spencer assume whatever was easier, and that doesn’t make it a less lie. He raises his gaze to look at Spencer again, swallowing, opening his mouth to say what he’s been hiding since they were kids, not even thinking about how Spencer would react because he feels too much guilt right now. However, right in that moment, Derek shows up with a big smile and putting his arms around both of them, turning them around to make them look at the living room.

    “Have you seen that redhead right there?” He says, and he laughs, clearly too much alcohol in his system to control himself. “She just told me she has a twin sister.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, looking at Ryan. “Big fan of yours, by the way. I doubt they both want to get on my bed, so… your move, Ross. I’m just saying, you don’t find some tits like those everywhere.”

    Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs, shaking his head and gulping at his drink. He hears Spencer say he would bet Ryan would be able to get them both in his bed, and Alex joins the conversation when they start to debate if it would be incest or not if they’re both in the same bed but don’t touch each other. Alex says no, Spencer says yes, and Derek says he wouldn’t mind if they touched each other. Spence ends up going to the leaving room with Alex while they both look at Derek like he were some demonic creature, leaving him trying to convince Ryan to, if he’s not going to do nothing about the twins, maybe he can talk to them and persuade them to go with Derek.

    “Derek,” says Ryan amused, leaning on the counter and looking at the redhead. She’s pretty, pale skin and freckles on her arms, and Ryan wouldn’t have to think about it twice in any other moment but, for some reason, he can’t make himself feel interested right now. Spencer’s recent words cross his mind but Ryan pushes them away immediately. “This is my advice, dude: if you have that one secured, don’t ask her about her sister. Just in case, you know? There are some really liberal girls in that field, maybe she’s into it, but if not, she’s going to think you’re fucking sick in the head, and you’re gonna lose your chance with her.” He says, shrugging and drinking a little more of his whisky. “Not that she would be wrong, thinking you’re sick in the head, but there are things that are better unknown.”

    “Go fuck yourself, man,” Derek snorts, pushing Ryan’s arm and laughing out loud. “You know what? I’m gonna ask Urie. He looks like he can convince them. You see those two?” He asks, pointing at two girls that are talking on the couch. “He was dancing with them before, and I heard them say they would love to take him home. That motherfucker’s going to score tonight, and he owns me, because I’m the host. He’s going to fuck thanks to me.”

    “Oh, yeah?” Ryan asks, not trying to correct Derek because he’ll be happy if Brendon fucks tonight, although it wouldn’t be with whom Derek has in mind. Ryan looks at the girls anyway, checking them from head to toe like he does with the rivals on the rink, unable to resist even if he knows Brendon doesn’t like women. “Go ask him, then. Maybe he’s better with women than me.”

    Derek doesn’t seem to need Ryan to tell him twice, and he almost run towards Brendon, where he’s talking to Jeff, making a gesture and starting to tell him what Ryan thinks is the same he’s told him. Brendon looks amused, and he doesn’t last to start nodding, getting back to the center of the floor where the redhead dances, starting to talk to her like he knew her since forever.

    Ryan looks away a little after, stopping paying attention because he knows someone will tell him the end of the story anyway. Derek’s going to talk about it non-stop for about a month if he gets away with it, and he won’t say a word if he doesn’t, it’s easy to know what goes on in his sexual life. Ryan finishes his drink and leaves the glass, going back to beer and leaving the stronger alcohol for now, because he wants to go running tomorrow morning and he won’t be able to do it if he has a fucked up hangover. The blonde girl Spencer was talking about before intercepts him on his way to the balcony and they talk for a while, Ryan pretending not to notice how she tries to flirt and taking advantage when Aaron joins them to sneak away. The girl doesn’t seem too affected, because Ryan sees her a little bit later making out with Aaron.

    When he finishes his beer, he leaves the bottle in the first flat surface he finds before going to the bathroom, making his way between the crowd gathered in the living room and using his knowledge of Derek’s house to go upstairs and use one of the bathrooms there instead of the one downstairs, where there’s probably someone making good use of it. More than someone, in fact, it wouldn’t be the first time. Up there the noise get overshadowed as well as the music, making Ryan notice how his ears are ringing due to the row. He uses the bathroom in the corridor, and he knows one more drink would start to fuck up his organism the moment he wash his hands and notice his sight is not as focused as usual. The cold water on his face and the nape of his neck makes it a little better, but he still decides to stop drinking for a while when he gets out and goes back downstairs.

    The first thing he hears the moment he gets to the living room is Brendon’s laugh. He laughs out loud, like he always does when he’s having a great time, big and lush laughs, as if his body was unable to contain all the enjoyment inside and it had to take it out somehow. He laughs and he fills the room, he lightens it, makes it bigger and spacious, and everybody laughs with him because it’s impossible not to, even if they don’t know what he’s laughing about, even if they don’t know why. It doesn’t matter, Brendon has one of those contagious laughs than cheers you up just hearing it, and makes you join him or, at least, end up with a stupid smile on your face. Or maybe not, maybe that last thing only happens to Ryan.

    Even Spencer’s laughing, not all the time, but from time to time he does, more than he would like to admit for sure. Ryan has to write it down in some place so he can throw it in Spencer’s face when they have a little less alcohol clouding their minds. That’s a factor too, of course, for Spencer and for Brendon, as well as for everyone else. If they didn’t have that rivalry born in the incapacity of Spencer of growing up further than his 15 years old, Ryan’s sure he and Brendon could be best friends for how both of them are able to drink one after another as they were drinking water.

    Ryan knows why Spencer drinks, how that’s his only way of getting his responsibilities and logic thinking out of his mind. About Brendon, Ryan can think of some theories, but there’s nothing about Brendon that Ryan could confirm without hearing it from Brendon’s mouth before.

    “Ryan. _Ryan_ ,” Brendon calls him from where a few seconds ago he and Blake were dancing to ‘N Sync, choreography included and everything. And, really, Ryan never thought Blake would know ‘N Sync even existed. Ryan raises a hand to say hi with a smile on his face, walking towards him and watching people going back to their previous business after looking at them for a second.

    “Hey,” he says when he gets there, observing Brendon’s relaxed and smiley face, his eyes shining, clearly more alcohol in his body than Ryan has. “It looks like you’re having fun.”

    “You left me. You were gone,” he says, making a sad face and pouting his lips, getting closer to Ryan, his hands making their way to Ryan’s hips but shifting their way in the last second, getting them up to place them on Ryan’s shoulders. “Where were you? Someone slapped Derek…” He says, pressing his lips before bursting into laughter, tilting his head. Ryan laughs too, a mix between how funny ended up Derek’s story and how amusing is hearing Brendon talk when he’s drunk.

    “I told him not to ask…” He says, shaking his head. “I just went to the bathroom.”

    “No. No. Before that. I was dancing and then you were gone. And I think two girls like me,” he says, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his face, laughing more. “Well. More that two. But those two, woah, they were fucking straightforward. Are girls always like that? I’ve never…” He says, looking at both of his sides, laughing as if he was about to tell a secret, moving closer to Ryan when he checks no one’s paying attention to them. “They told me things so dirty I haven’t heard in my life. I think I blushed and everything.”

    “You don’t say,” Ryan raises an eyebrow and looks at Brendon. “That much? And what did you say?” He asks curious. He refuses to think is anything more than curiosity. Brendon looks at him and tilts his head in a movement slower than he probably knows, laughing and rocking on his feet a little without taking his hands from Ryan’s shoulders, making a guilty face and shrugging.

    “Well… I told them I had a girlfriend,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand and laughing again, shaking his head. “It was. I couldn’t say anything else. Because I wasn’t gonna tell them _the truuuuth_ ,” he says, changing his voice to a solemn one. “And then I told them about Derek. And it looked good but then don’t, because Mariam slapped Derek across the face because he said something about her sister or some shit.” Brendon bursts into laughter again, rubbing his face with his hand, shrugging once more. “You know, girl power, all that. If a girl punch some dude in the face, you don’t fuck him. I guess. I suppose.”

    “I see,” says Ryan, trying to control his laugh because it’s so funny watching Brendon like that. “How much did you drink?” He asks finally, unable to control himself and laughing soft. Brendon furrow his brow, as if he didn’t expected that question, looking back and mumbling something while moving his fingers over Ryan’s shoulders. He laughs again in the end, pressing his lips together.

    “I don’t know. I didn’t count them.” He confesses, laughing and then opening his eyes wide, pushing Ryan’s chest with one of his hands. “Oh. But, talking about that. Look, look,” he says, making Ryan turn to look at one of the coffee tables near one of the sofas, where a ton of glasses and bottles are gathered. Ryan knows what he’s talking about the moment he sees the saltshaker and the bowl with lime slices. “I found it, Ry. Well, not me, but that doesn’t matter. So I can buy you that shot,” he says, smiling huge like a kid you just told to go to the amusement park, getting on tiptoes and leaning in Ryan’s ear. “And then I can do to you everything I wanted to do the first time you bought me one,” he adds in a low voice, shattering into pieces the previous image. Ryan’s throat dries and he wets his lips to compensate, clenching his jaw a moment and letting out a nervous laugh, starting to walk towards the table and looking back at Brendon.

    “Is there something you haven’t done yet?” he asks, standing near the table and grabbing the tequila bottle and looking in the table for two clean glasses, filling them when he founds them. He guesses just a shot won’t make him have a much bigger hangover, having in mind that he’s almost sober right now.

    “You don’t know my whole repertoire, Rosss,” Brendon answers with self-confidence, stressing the ‘s’ as much as he can and getting closer to push Ryan against one of the free sofas. It almost looks like he’s going to do something else, right there, in front of everyone. He doesn’t, he just sits near Ryan and takes the lime and the salt. “I’m pretty sure I still can surprise you.”

    “I don’t doubt that at all,” Ryan answers, licking the back of his hand and putting salt on it, giving the saltshaker to Brendon and taking the slice of lime with that hand, the glass with the other. Brendon does the same, pouring more salt on the floor than his hand, laughing when he sees he’s struggling to do it, trying again and again until he gets it, clearing his throat with dignity when everything’s prepared. Ryan uses all of his strength not to laugh.

    “So, now, what was that toast?” Brendon asks, preparing his glass and raising it forward to clink it with Ryan’s. This one smiles big and twisted, raising an eyebrow and clinking their glasses.

    “I’ll show you later,” he says, letting the way he’s looking at Brendon do the rest, licking the salt on his hand and just tearing apart his eyes from Brendon to let his head fall back and the liquid pour down his throat, bringing the lime to his mouth and hollowing his cheeks when he sucks at the juice.

    Brendon’s still looking at him, his glass intact and his eyes lost in Ryan, his lips a bit open as if he were absorbed. He blinks a while later, snorting a soft laugh before lowering down his head to lick the salt and drink all at once, biting at the lime and breaking the pulp with his teeth, chewing and making a face. He leaves the glass on the table without looking, putting the lime rind inside it and getting closer to Ryan on the couch, this time not bothering in checking if someone’s looking at them. He leans in and let his head rest on the back, moving a hand to push Ryan’s chest so he leans back too, his lips getting close Ryan’s ear.

    “I think I have a little problem with you, Ry,” he whispers, taking his hand away form Ryan’s chest slowly, his fingers lingering a little, caressing. Ryan looks around them, checking the people in the room and back to Brendon when he sees everyone’s minding their business. He raises an eyebrow.

    “Did I do something?” He asks, laughing, because it wouldn’t be so weird, being he.

    “Nope,” answers Brendon, making the ‘p’ pop with his lips, shaking his head. “But that’s the problem, you know? How eager I am for you to do everything to me,” he says, sighing. “And I think the best thing will be for me to go home right now because I’m not sure how much time I can take before making out with you right here and get us in big trouble. So I need you to help me find my Ventra card in my wallet because I’m sure I won’t find it by myself, and I may try to pay for the ride with a receipt or something,” he says, laughing soft and letting his head fall, resting his forehead on Ryan’s hair. This one laughs and thinks that, yes, maybe that’s a problem, because he wants to do the same thing right now and it’s already dangerous just the position they are on the couch.

    “Come on,” he says, moving to get up, helping Brendon do the same. “You’re not gonna take the L like this. I’ll take you home,” he adds. He was going to go home soon too, anyway, and he can’t let Brendon go by himself in his condition. Brendon looks at him and nods, taking his time to keep his balance now that he was sitting, using Ryan as a rest for a moment but then keeping up all by himself once they cross the living room. Ryan tries to look around and find Spencer while they walk through the crowd, but he can’t manage to do it, so he gets his phone and texts him to say he’s leaving. Spencer probably won’t read it, anyway, or won’t remember the next day.

    There’s people outside too when they get out, some of them trying to sober up with a bit of fresh air, some other smoking, chatting up. Ryan says hi to a group of people he doesn’t know but they know him and he saw them inside before, turning around the corner to get to the car in the back of the house and making sure Brendon’s following him. He raises a hand to push the hair out of Brendon’s face when they’re out of sight, getting a little closer and smiling.

    “Are you okay?” He asks, smoothing Brendon’s hair a couple of times with his hand. Brendon nods quickly, grabbing Ryan’s shirt and pulling in before cupping his face and kissing him. He does it fast, and he pulls apart the same way, looking at him with wide eyes.

    “Sorry. We’re. I shouldn’t.” He trips over his tongue and pulls at Ryan again, kissing him one more time without bothering in assembling his words, sighing over Ryan’s mouth and pushing his fingers through Ryan’s hair, letting Ryan taste the acid lime still on his tongue mixed with the tequila. Ryan kisses back because he can’t not do it, but he holds Brendon’s face and breaks it fast, using all of his willpower to do it, laughing a little.

    “Not here, Bren,” he whispers still against his mouth, looking past Brendon for a moment to be sure no one’s around and there’s no windows opened, kissing him short one last time. “Come on, get in the car.”

    Brendon nods again, more like an automatic thing than anything else, opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat, letting himself fall on the seat with his head leaning back, looking at Ryan with his lips open and his hair ruffled when he gets in the car. He bites his lips and fists his hands, looking for the seatbelt to put it on and fighting with the lock until he finally does it.

    “Should you drive?” Asks Brendon, looking at Ryan from head to toe with eyes full of something that’s definitely not worry. Ryan smiles because he can see how Brendon’s eating him alive with his look, letting out a soft laugh.

    “Don’t worry. I’m practically sober and we’re not far away,” he says, starting the car and driving around to get on the way out Derek’s house, saying goodbye to the security guy when they pass the main gate.

    “We are far away.” Says Brendon when they’ve already driven a fair distance, like he was processing Ryan’s words in slow motion. “My home is fucking miles away. I had to catch two lines. Or was it three? Fuck, I don’t remember.”

    Ryan laughs and turns to get on the way to The Loop, heading for home instead of Brendon’s. Derek’s not even 15 minutes far from his and with this low traffic they would get there even sooner, so it just takes them ten minutes to get to Ryan’s street. The security guard says hi when he sees them coming, and he opens the gates to let Ryan get the car in, not making any face or gesture that tell if he’s notice that Ryan has company, or maybe he’s just being discreet about it. Ryan doesn’t care; being discreet is on his workers contract.

    He stops the engine when he parks the car on the side of his house, unbuckling his seatbelt and looking at Brendon to check if he’s still awake on the passenger seat. He’s spent the most of the way with his eyes closed, but he opens them again when the car stops, blinking slowly and looking around a little lost, frowning and looking at Ryan, managing to smile crooked.

    “Hey, where are we? You didn’t kidnap me, did you?” He jokes with a tired voice but managing to sound suggestive somehow. “It wouldn’t work out, nobody would pay the ransom. You would have to keep me.”

    “Maybe I don’t want the ransom and that was my plan all along,” Ryan jokes back, smiling and laughing soft, reaching with his hand to unbuckle Brendon’s seatbelt. “We’re at my house. Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the door and getting out, looking at Brendon to see if he’s able to get out of the car by himself or if Ryan would have to open his door for him too.

    Brendon does it, not before fighting with the door looking for the handle, getting out of the car and stretching out, cracking his neck and fingers before walking the distance between him and Ryan, putting his arms around Ryan’s neck and kissing him again, slower this time but as eager as before.

    “Now it is, right? Now I can,” he asks, dragging his lips to Ryan’s jaw, biting soft and burying his nose behind Ryan’s ear. “I like how you smell. I like you too much, Ryan.”

    “You’ve drunk too much,” Ryan laughs nervous, holding Brendon’s hips and keeping him closer, swallowing and ignoring the warm something that vibrates inside his chest when he hears Brendon’s words. “Tomorrow you’re not even going to remember what you just said.”

    “Better,” Brendon nods, laughing against Ryan’s neck, stepping forward, making Ryan step backwards not to fall. “That’s the good thing about alcohol, you can say whatever you want without feeling like an idiot later,” he laughs even more, dragging his nose along Ryan’s hair, holding him tighter. “With a little bit of luck you won’t remember either and we’ll all be happy. Let the forbidden thoughts stay were they belong.”

    Ryan swallows again because Brendon’s talking like he knows exactly what he’s talking about and not like that’s something he doesn’t mean and it’s just the alcohol talking as Ryan had thought. He sighs and moves his hands up to Brendon’s hair, pushing it away of his face and making him look at him, looking back at Brendon with his heart racing and a weird feeling inside his chest.

    He leans in to kiss him short and soft, just gracing his lips, licking his own then and scanning Brendon’s face, the curve of his nose, his red lips, his eyes almost closed because of the alcohol. He feels like something suddenly takes his breath away, and he swallows one more time to try to get his lungs back to work, his heart still beating hard in his chest and his stomach twisting when his brain starts to recognize the name of what this is.

    “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, his voice sounding miles away to his own ears. “It’s cold out here.”

    Brendon stares at him and takes his time to nod, doing it slowly while taking his hands away from Ryan, biting his lips compulsively when he starts to walk to follow Ryan, grabbing his arm when it looks like his balance betrays him. Ryan puts his arm around Brendon’s shoulders to pull him closer, getting the keys out of his pocket and opening the door without releasing him.

    The moment he steps in the house, the four dogs rush into them, barking and waving their tails enthusiastic, trying to climb up their legs. Ryan laughs and shushes them, saying hi to every one of them and pushing them away a little to close the door, trying to make Rat stop climbing Brendon, who is trying to pet them all at once with a huge smile and sleepy movements.

    “Okay, okay, that’s it,” says Ryan laughing, letting go Brendon’s shoulders but holding his hand instead, taking off his shoes and letting them aside before starting to walk into the house, illuminated just by the lights outside. “Can you climb the stairs or am I going to have to carry you?” He asks Brendon with a smile, going directly to the stairs without bothering in turning the lights on, three of the dogs already gone uninterested but Rat still following them.

    “I can climb them,” Brendon laughs, pulling Ryan’s hand even if they’re close already, “but you can carry me ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’ style. Have you seen that movie? I’ve never seen that movie, but they say… I think that’s the one where there’s a… a…” He laughs again, probably when he finds himself struggling to finish the sentence. “A scene like that. Like, in the arms. I don’t know if there are stairs involved, though.”

    “There’s no stairs, no,” Ryan laughs, starting to climb the stairs really slow after turning the light on, because if Brendon’s already struggling, to do it with the lights off would be totally impossible. Brendon looks closely at the stairs, nodding although no one have said anything, starting to climb them and turning his head to reach with his hand in the air.

    “Goodbyeee, dooooogs,” he says dramatically, letting his head fall and grabbing Ryan’s arm and laughing when he place his foot wrong and almost falls on his knees. He holds himself on a step while he laughs out loud, pulling at Ryan’s arm to try and get back on his feet, looking at him with his brow furrowed. “This is your fault. For not carrying me in your arms.”

    Ryan laughs and shakes his head, going two steps down to stand below Brendon, tuning his body and rolling his eyes with a smile on his face. He grabs Brendon’s hands and brings them around his own neck for Brendon to hold himself there as he did before.

    “I won’t do it like ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’,” he says, lowering his hands down Brendon’s back to his thighs, pushing him up. “Don’t get too exited or we’re falling down,” he warns, laughing at the situation. Brendon burst out a laugh when he climbs Ryan, tangling his legs around Ryan’s waist and hiding his face on Ryan’s neck without stopping laughing.

    “Whatever you say, Richard,” he jokes, but Ryan can feel how Brendon holds him tight, making sure not to fall.

    He keeps laughing the whole way up, tensing when Ryan makes a move he doesn’t expect, holding him like there’s no tomorrow, and it’s almost like that. However, he doesn’t hesitate in opening his lips on Ryan’s neck when he gets they’re not going to fall, grazing his skin with the tip of his tongue, kissing then. Ryan sighs with a choked sound, finishing to climb up the stairs and moving his head away to make room for Brendon on his neck when they’re already in solid ground, turning the light off and walking to his bedroom.

    He doesn’t let Brendon down even if they’re already there, moving his face and looking for Brendon’s mouth to kiss him, pushing his tongue past Brendon’s lips and tasting the alcohol there mixed with Brendon’s own flavor, tightening his hold just to keep him closer, pulling his lips away just to breathe.

    “We’re already up here,” he whispers, kissing Brendon again and releasing one of his arms when he knows they’re close to his bedroom, pushing the door open so they can come in.

    “Take me to bed?” Brendon whispers back, like a plead almost, sliding his hands up Ryan’s back, drawing figures with his fingers until they reach Ryan’s neck, tangling between the locks of hair. Ryan breathes against his skin when he places his lips under Brendon’s jaw, kissing wet with his lips open, walking across the room to reach the bed.

    “How curious,” he jokes, breathing a laugh, letting Brendon fall on the bed carefully, placing himself on top of him and bringing his mouth back to Brendon’s jaw, close to his ear. “It’s exactly where I was taking you to,” he says before placing his knees at each side of Brendon, standing up and using his hands on Brendon’s shirt to push it up. Brendon smiles and arches his back, letting Ryan take off his clothes, lowering his own hands to unbuckle Ryan’s jeans, unbutton Ryan’s shirt.

    “I like your bed. I bet it doesn’t look so big with me inside,” he says with half-closed eyes, moving sinuous on the mattress. “And speaking of being inside…” he says, laughing breathy, grazing Ryan’s chest with his fingers where he has unbuttoned the shirt. Ryan laughs and finishes unbuttoning it, taking it off, leaning in to kiss Brendon again.

    “It looks exactly how it should,” he whispers, biting Brendon’s jaw and rocking his body over him. “I have to go to the bathroom. Are you gonna be awake when I come back?” He asks, more breathy than usual.

    “Sure. Sure, yes,” Brendon answers, nodding, moving his head so Ryan’s lips grazes his skin, lifting a hand to Ryan’s hair, tangling his fingers there and pushing to kiss him. “Don’t take too long. I need you to… Make me…” He licks his lips and looks at Ryan, hoping he can finish the sentences for him, then nodding as if he was talking to himself.

    “It’s just a moment,” Ryan promises, kissing Brendon again, first on his lips, then on the middle of his chest before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom in quick steps. He doesn’t even take three minutes in there, but when he gets out and hears the quiet room, he knows Brendon’s asleep.

    He laughs low and shakes his head, taking his jeans and socks off and getting on the bed. Brendon has tangled himself with the covers, his jeans opened but still on, and he’s sound sleep. Ryan sighs and moves carefully, taking the covers around Brendon and taking his jeans off really slow, trying not to wake him up. He lets them aside and gets on the bed with Brendon, pulling the covers up to their heads and snuggling together, kissing Brendon’s shoulder.

    He closes his eyes and sighs again, not because he’s going to sleep, but because he’s needed this time to realize what he’s doing, and now it’s gotten out of hand. While he listen to Brendon breathe and he feels the heat of his body on his own skin, a lump forms on Ryan’s throat and his stomach turns. It’s a weird mix, feeling so good and so lost at the same time, because now he understands the problem he’s gotten into, and he’s neck deep in it. Now he understands that what he’s feeling for Brendon is something he hasn’t felt before, but he’s not stupid enough not to know what is it. Not to know that, maybe, he likes Brendon too much, too.

 

* 

 

    When Ryan starts to wake up, he does with his face buried in a mop of hair, and he wrinkles his nose and tries to push away some locks because they tickle. He takes a couple of seconds to understand that’s not his own hair, that his face is hidden on Brendon’s hair, spooning him in bed with his arm around his body. He notices because Brendon’s scent fills his nostrils, and he moves to get his face away, sliding down on the mattress to rest his forehead on Brendon’s back instead of his hair.

    He sighs soft, moving lightly but not changing his posture, feeling how he’s getting conscious of everything around him, the silence and how warm Brendon’s skin is, his deep breathe, the sheets tangled with their legs. And it must be really early, because the dogs have sneaked in the bedroom but they’re asleep, Zeppelin, Hilda and Rat curled at their feet on the bed and Aunt Em nestled near the big window where the sun is shining. Ryan guesses their plan was to snuggle all around him as always but it failed when they realized Ryan was already snuggling with someone else.

    He blinks slowly and looks around before closing his eyes and going back to his original position, because he wanted to go running but he’s absolutely more confortable where he is right now. He can go running later, or this evening even. He stays where he is, relaxed and in silence, but he doesn’t go back to sleep because, now that he’s awake, his body is too used to wake up early to work out and stuff to do it. Anyway, Ryan enjoys staying in bed and he’s finding out it’s even better when Brendon’s there with him.

    If he stopped to think about all of the implications that those thoughts have, he would start to freak out right away, or so he thinks, because his body seems very pleased with the situation, so much it doesn’t look alarmed at all. Ryan thinks he should be alarmed, because he doesn’t do these things, because he’s doing them and because doing them means that what he feels for Brendon is bigger than what he should feel. He should be really alarmed because this can mean trouble, a problem too big for him and for Brendon, because they’re having less and less care each time and what started as a meaningless fuck is turning into something Ryan doesn’t want to name. And if something happened, if someone saw them just sharing a kiss, Brendon would lose his job and Ryan could say good-bye to playing hockey for the rest of his life.

    Those are really big reasons to be alarmed but, somehow, Ryan’s still lying down on that bed, eyes closed and breathing at Brendon’s rhythm, listening to the silence, relaxed under the sheets. He guesses he’s not awake enough to understand the gravity of the issue.

    His mind wanders and soon he forgets about his worries as he gets himself into that state of drowsiness where he’s not really asleep but he’s not fully awake. He still could hear the sounds around him, if there was any, but his body relaxes again and his breath gets deeper. He has the feeling that it has passed barely ten minutes since he started getting sleepy again when he feels a weight on the mattress, moving towards him and sinking down the bed at its pace. Ryan knows what is it before it makes any sound, but he can react before it attacks.

    Zeppelin head-butts Ryan right on his face, in spite of having it almost buried on Brendon’s back, starting to lick Ryan’s hand and pushing him with his head while he whines, trying to move Ryan. Hilda’s the first to bark, putting her front paws on Ryan, making him grunt and make a face, and he needs to blink a couple of times before he realizes that Rat has gone directly to Brendon.

    She’s on top of Brendon and she sniffs him waving her tail excited, barking a couple of times and making Brendon grunt right from his throat before starting to rub against his face. Ryan thinks that dog thinks she’s a cat.

    “Shh. Enough. Rat, leave him alone.” He moves his arm to try and get the dog away from Brendon while he tries to dodge Zeppelin bumps at the same time, laughing at the situation and complaining when that encourages the dogs to make things worse, thinking this is a game. “Rat, come here. Leave Brendon alone.”

    He tries to grab the dog to pull her to his side of the bed, but she twists and avoids Ryan’s hand with an upset growl, turning her attention back to Brendon when she frees herself from Ryan’s hand, whining when she sees Brendon’s not paying her attention and starting to bump with her snout on Brendon’s chin. Brendon grunts again, opening and closing his mouth, frowning when he wipes his lips with a hand and pushes with his tongue dog’s hair out of his mouth, a present from Rat.

    “Dog?” Brendon murmurs still mostly asleep, opening just an eye and looking like he’s trying to focus, smiling a little when Rat moves over him, barking again and making Brendon whine and close his eye again. “No, dog, no,” he pleads, using the hand he used to wipe his mouth to bring it to Rat’s head, tossing her hair and scratching the back of her ear. “Who are you? Huh? My new wake-up alarm?”

    Ryan laughs and looks to his other side when he feels the mattress sinking down there, finding Aunt Em with her front paws up the bed, looking at him and joining the party. Ryan scratches her head and does the same with Hilda and Zeppelin, trying to make them go away a bit later.

    “Come on, down, you bastards,” he growls joking when the dogs finally get down the bed. Zeppelin and Hilda disappear down the corridor, but Aunt Em just goes around the bed, looking at Brendon without making any sound, just waiting. Ryan laughs and tries to push Rat away again, making her bark at him. “I’m sorry,” he tells Brendon, shushing Rat again. Brendon just laughs, looking at Ryan for a second before holding Aunt Em in his arms and getting her on his lap, playing with her ears.

    “Are you another wake-up alarm? Huh? A silent one,” he says, petting her head and back, getting his other hand from under the covers and sitting up a bit to pet Rat at the same time. Ryan observes him and bites his lips, a smile opening in his face when he sees Brendon interacting with his dogs. “Not like you, huh, little bug? You’re such a cute… No! Agh! Kisses.” He makes a face when Rat goes directly to lick his face, but he doesn’t do anything to push her away, just wipe his face and laughs while he keeps petting Aunt Em. Ryan feels something warm growing in his guts. “Be a good girl just like your friend. Ryan, help!”

    “Rat, enough,” he says, using a more serious tone even if he’s trying to hide his laugh, sitting up too to hold the dog and get her away from Brendon, putting her on the floor out of the bed. “Go run somewhere, you hairy mop,” he says, pushing her a bit until she obeys and start walking to the door. It seems like Aunt Em feels in minority now because she jumps out of the bed to follow Rat, disappearing down the corridor. Brendon makes a whining noise and reaches with his arm in the air.

    “Noooooo, don’t go!” He says pouting, leaning back on the pillow, looking at Ryan and sighing. “It’s like petting a teddy bear.”

    Ryan laughs and shakes the covers as much as he can before sliding down to lie on the bed again.

    “She’s such a good girl,” he says, looking where Aunt Em and the others have gone, knowing they won’t last in coming again. At least Rat will, and probably Zeppelin. This one used to wait for the others to be busy with other things to come and have all of Ryan’s attention. “They won’t take too long to come back.”

    Brendon smiles sideways, his eyes half closed, moving to face Ryan and put his head back on the pillow, rubbing his face and his eyes with his hand.

    “I’m at your house,” he says, not asking, but making sure he’s right. “I think I drank a little too much yesterday,” he adds, laughing and bringing the hand he used to rub his face to his temple, pressing there and grunting a little.

    “A little, yeah,” says Ryan in a low voice, laughing and holding Brendon’s wrist to take his hand away from his face, placing his own there and rubbing Brendon’s temple with his fingers. “Does it hurt too much?” He asks, and he’s still smiling but he doesn’t mean to mock Brendon about it. Brendon makes a face, playing it down.

    “I’m not bad with hangovers, I’m fine,” he answers, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them again with a smile. “Although you can keep doing that. I’m not used to be the one on the receiving end of a massage. I can get used to this,” he jokes, winking at Ryan. This one laughs soft and gets closer on the bed, keeping rubbing Brendon’s temple, closing his own eyes because he can’t look anywhere else besides Brendon and it’s making his stomach jump and his lungs stop working.

    He hears Brendon moan in relief, purring a little and getting closer to Ryan’s body, using his legs to push them subtly between Ryan’s, tangling them together to press their bodies as close as he can.

    “Hey,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan can hear him swallow before speaking again, “I’ve got dog spit all over my face, and probably morning breath too, but I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” He asks, getting a little closer but not doing anything yet, waiting for Ryan to answer. Ryan doesn’t say a thing, just laughs and shakes his head as if he couldn’t believe Brendon was real, because sometimes it’s hard to believe, closing the distance between them and kissing him.

    Brendon smiles in the kiss, sighing a little and bringing his hands to Ryan’s face, holding him to keep him in place, opening his lips a bit and covering Ryan’s mouth, kissing him slow and warm, breathing him. Ryan puts his arms around Brendon, responding with his whole body, closing his eyes and moving his lips with the same lack of urgency Brendon’s doing it, feeling like a ball of energy is growing in his chest, getting bigger and bigger until it’s hard to breathe, his heartbeat getting faster.

    The sensations pile up in his insides, the heat of Brendon wrapping him up and the want of having him closer, even if it’s not possible, hits Ryan hard. Closer, more time, more of everything, it’s making Ryan feel things he never knew he could feel, and he doesn’t know what to do with them, doesn’t know what to do with this warm feeling in his chest, this tingling in his stomach, the contradiction of feeling too much and not enough, the thought of having this every day and never get tired of it.

    He moves away from Brendon making a face because he doesn’t really want to do it but he feels like he’s drowning, his eyes still closed when he rests his forehead on Brendon’s, breathing hard and trying to control the way his body seems out of itself, overwhelmed.

    “Ryan?” Brendon’s voice sounds soft, and Ryan feels how he taps their noses together before speaking again. “Everything alright?” he asks and his voice sounds worried, maybe a little guilty even. Ryan nods, breathing trough his nose and letting the air out to make his heartbeat slow down, unable to open his eyes because he feels like, if he looks at Brendon now, everything that he’s feeling will crowd him and swallow him alive until he makes a mess out of himself.

    The question echoes inside his head a few times, he himself asks it. “Everything alright?” Well, yes, everything’s good. Everything feels good, at least, so good that’s exactly the problem. Too good for Ryan to know how to handle it, too good for him to feel confortable right now. Because the problem is not that this feels good, but that Ryan’s getting used to it being this way, he’s getting used to like it. He likes waking up with his face buried in Brendon’s hair, and Brendon’s body warming up his too big bed; he likes how Brendon loves his dogs and how he kisses him slow and with no other purpose than just kissing.

    The problem is not even that Ryan doesn’t do these things with anyone but, when he finds it, it’s the least appropriate person to do it. Not because it’s Brendon, but because what it means that both of them are men, the consequences that would have, a big mess they would be really stupid to get into. And, however, here they are, up to their necks.

    Ryan manages to get it together enough to nod and say yes, everything’s okay, to stay there with him like his body is not tense and paralyzed before the realization of what Brendon’s becoming to him, and how bad idea would it be to let it go further. He nods and he manages to be convincing, because Brendon smiles and offers preparing something for their hangover, for breakfast, and it’s not like Ryan’s hung-over at all but he’s not in the best place to explain anything that’s not the essentials.

    He can’t say it’s not a shocking picture, Brendon in his kitchen, with just his jeans on, shirtless and barefoot, fixing a smoothie with whatever he’s put in there while he comments some things about Ryan’s home. It’s too familiar, too quotidian, especially for someone who’s visiting Ryan’s home for the first time. Brendon seems to have that gift, making easy hard things, what only makes them harder at the end of the day.

    Even like that, even with the constant conversation Brendon offers, the communication between them feels drained, and maybe that’s the reason Brendon doesn’t take long to say he should go home, making some joke about stop scrounging off Ryan. Ryan laughs and says he’s not scrounging off anybody, but he doesn’t try to make him stay either, because there are a lot of things going on in his head right now and he can’t think with Brendon there.

    When they say goodbye and Ryan closes the door, he almost can feel it’s easier to breathe, but the warm feeling in his belly and his fast heartbeat are still there, the image of Brendon inside his bed this morning burned in his eyes when he closes them. The panic doesn’t fade away from his nervous system, but at least Brendon’s not there to make him forget all of the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this in the first place.

 

    Seeing things clearly, with a cold head and cold sheets, always help in cases like this one. Ryan doesn’t take too long to understand they have to take a step back, they’re following a dangerous path if they keep going forward and it’s a path they can’t allow themselves to take. It was absolutely better when it was just sex, easier at least, and maybe the best idea is to go back to those first days when the only reason they saw each other out of work was just for that.

    He thinks about talking about it with Brendon, but when they see each other again at practice he knows it won’t be necessary. It doesn’t even feel awkward to go back, not more than usual, and they adapt back to their previous ways in a short time. They are coworkers in the stadium, they talk sometimes when Ryan takes Brendon home and stuff, but they cut down their meetings at the minimum, at what the original purpose was.

    It’s not like Ryan can think too much about it either, because the season starts to reach that critical point where every match counts and there’s no place for the defeat. The playoffs are close and, even if there are still a few games to play in the regular season, they can be content with just a few victories or to end in a tie. Every score counts, and their goal is to finish this season knowing they are mathematically classified for the playoffs even if there are still games to play.

    They have to play some with the pacific division and the east conference, and their priority is to stay the first of their division and between the four first in their conference. Now they’re first in both, but in hockey everything can change in a matter of weeks. Ryan works harder with the pass of the days, more hours in the gym, more time on the ice, sometimes alone but most of the time with Spencer or even with Bob, who joins them to talk about game strategies and exercises for their practices to help them get their weak spots stronger whenever they play with some specific rival.

    It looks like the time of the season shows in every team, because parties are cut down and everybody takes practice more seriously. Not that they didn’t take it seriously before, Bob would make them eat a puck if they didn’t, but the atmosphere seem less relaxed and more focused, they work harder, giving a hundred percent of what they’ve got in every part of the practice. Ryan doesn’t feel any ache in his thigh again, now that it’s completely recovered, not even when they get out of the ice with empty bottles of water, choking on their breath and the sweat dripping down their faces under the helmet.

    At the same time, the guys start to go to the doctor’s office in alphabetical order so the medical team can start doing their check up in order to elaborate the exercise program they’re going to follow when the playoffs start. The stadium has opened the big physiotherapy room, and it’s not unusual to see some of the guys go directly to the cold and hot water pool the moment they get out of the shower. It feels in the air how they’re not just playing anymore, with the nutritionists always all over them, Patrick watching the games and Elisa working on visualization programs with some of them individually. They soon will start the group sessions.

    On the rink the team works on improving the long passes and getting the front stronger so Spencer doesn’t have to have all the weight there when they play, making the wingers move to make the plays more dynamic and new so the rivals don’t expect them. Ryan works with Blake and Bob over a more concentrated defense, what would make him go less to the front to keep the zone covered without having to skate half of the rink and back like he has to do sometimes. He prefers to go and support the center and wings, not just limiting his work to the defense, but this way he could get less tired and play more minutes.

    With all of the pressure over them, it’s not unusual that Ryan starts to get texts from Spencer more regularly, talking about anything of the team, of other teams, Bob’s strategies or some of his own too. It always happen, at first there are texts and then calls, and it ends up with Ryan staying at Spencer’s because his friend is a control freak and needs someone to hear him and comment his thoughts with.

    The good thing about staying at Spencer’s, aside from staying with you best friend talking about things you love, is that he has the opportunity to eat dinner there. It’s not the same as eating dinner at Spencer’s mom’s home, of course, but Spencer has some culinary abilities that Ryan won’t ever admit to him.

    “Sometimes I think you just come here to eat my food, not to listen to me,” says Spencer, watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye from the other end of the table.

    “That’s not true,” says Ryan, but he’s not sure if he sounds convincing enough when he talks with his mouth full. He swallows the food and licks his lips, looking at Spencer amused. “I’m listening. You said if Aaron could be faster you could do a deke, but he’s too slow for your hawk reflexes.”

    “No, asshole, that was five minutes ago,” Spencer grunts, leaving the fork on the table and hissing a little. “I said I’m gonna do it. Ask her. Linda.”

    “Oh. _Oh_.” Ryan opens his eyes wider. He should have really been lost in the food because he doesn’t remember hearing that. He knows Spencer wants to do it, they have talked about it before, but he didn’t thought he wanted to do it already. “When?”

    “Not now. It hast to be something special, you know,” he says, moving his hand and picking up the fork again, moving the food on his plate before taking it to his mouth. “So I thought about the celebration, when we classify. I’ve got time to take the ring get fixed and stuff. To make it all perfect.”

    “And Linda’s gonna like that, to ask her in front of everyone?” Asks Ryan, speaking again when he sees Spencer’s face. “Not that it’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s fine with me. I’m just saying some girls don’t like to have an audience. Or not, I don’t know, it’s not like I talk about that with girls. I don’t know Linda that much, either…” He shuts up, getting food in his mouth again to keep him from talking.

    “She’s gonna like it. It’s romantic, isn’t it? Also, there will be cameras there, she’s gonna have the memento forever,” says Spencer, making a gesture as if it were obvious. He stops when he starts eating again, looking at Ryan and raising an eyebrow. “How would you do it? Maybe you should think about it, just in case you have to do it for Miss Mysterious,” he adds, laughing then because even he knows how ridiculous that sounds. Ryan tries to laugh as much as Spencer, but he doesn’t manage to get out more than a short laugh because the lump in his throat appears as every time Spencer talks about “the girl”.

    “I wouldn’t,” he jokes, or he tries, because the weird and uncomfortable feeling that joins his thought of being lying to his friend makes his stomach twist. Ryan tries to ignore it, keeping up with the subject and shrugging, but he’s not able to look at Spencer when he talks. “You know I’m not a fan of cameras… I’d just probably stick to something private. A symbolic place like where we first met or something like that, maybe hiding the ring inside her favorite book or using a song that tells something I can use, I don’t know.” Ryan laughs, shrugging with his eyes fixed on his plate. “Girls like those things, right?”

    Spencer stares at him for a moment, blinking a couple of times and laughing through his nose before making a move with his head, shrugging before keeping eating. He nods, chewing and pointing at Ryan with the fork.

    “Ross, you don’t look like it,” he says, swallowing and looking at him again, laughing, “but in the bottom of your heart you’re fucking cheesy, and you love all of that romantic stuff. You can fuck everything that moves but the moment someone has gotten into your head, you’re already thinking about books and songs and symbolic places.”

    Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs, trying to play it down and make it look like Spencer’s talking nonsenses. He swallows his food with more trouble than he should, feeling his palms getting sweaty and his heart getting faster, resounding inside his chest. This is as good time as any other, Ryan thinks, taking advantage of them being alone to tell him once and for all, to stop feeling this guilt choking him every time they talk about it. Having in mind that they talk about it a lot, Ryan thinks the sooner he does it, the better.

    “I never said I wasn’t a romantic,” he defends himself, and his voice sounds weird in his own ears, like making the decision of telling him was an outerbody experience or something as surreal. “There are some other things I’ve never said, actually,” he says, laughing nervously, swallowing because he feels his throat drying too fast. This time he raises his eyes to look at Spencer, biting the insides of his mouth, moving on his seat and rubbing his hands on his jeans compulsively. Spencer looks back at him, making an uninterested face, as if he didn’t know what Ryan’s talking about. He doesn’t really know, actually.

    “Some other things? Like what?” He asks, taking the glass of water to drink while he raises an eyebrow. Ryan swallows again, and he never thought talking about it would be so hard. He’s not sure what he’s afraid of, Spencer’s rejection, maybe. Despite of knowing him since forever and knowing he can count on him for everything, there’s a part of him that doubts when it comes to this.

    “Like,” he starts, and he has to stop a moment to breath, telling himself it’s absurd to act like this, Spencer is his brother, he won’t judge Ryan because of this. “Like when sometimes we’ve talked about me being with someone, a girl, it wasn’t… Well, um. I wasn’t with girls, actually,” he finishes, looking at his friend without breathing and his eyes huge, expecting.

    Spencer’s face doesn’t change as he keeps looking at Ryan, as if he was expecting him to keep on talking, as if he thought Ryan didn’t finish and there was still something to add to that, as if, without that something, he were completely unable to understand what Ryan’s talking about.

    “You weren’t with girls?” He asks, frowning, as if he didn’t understand where else could he be, with whom. “Then what? What were you doing? Did you go to a Buddhist temple and then you came back saying you hooked up or…?” Spencer laughs, shrugging and making a move with his hand. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

    Ryan takes a deep breath again and lowers his look a moment, thinking about his next words because he was expecting not to have to tell him directly, he expected Spencer to understand just like that. He wonders where his best friend’s wit is when he needs it.

    “I mean they _weren’t girls_ ,” he says again, stressing the words, looking at Spencer again with pleading eyes, sighing when he realizes he’s going to have to say it no matter what. “I mean they were… they were, um. Guys,” he murmurs, lowering his voice at the last word, as if he could awake Spencer’s anger if he says it too loud.

    He doesn’t, awake Spencer’s anger, but he can see his friend freeze from head to toe, as if he were getting blue and Ryan could see the frost covering his skin at the same time he gets still, paralyzed in his place. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop looking at Ryan either, and it’s there, in his eyes, where Ryan can see something changing and changing and changing, nothing staying.

    “Guys,” Spencer says when he speaks, with his voice hard and that one he uses when he wants to look calm but he’s not. “Guys like…” He takes a hand to his face, pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Not like buddies out of the team, I guess, right? I mean. Guys like…” Spencer lets out a nervous and alarmed laugh, covering his mouth with his hand and moving his head a little. “Are you…? Sorry, it’s just… Are you gay?”

    “Bisexual,” Ryan corrects, and his voice seems far away, like he was hearing the conversation from behind a door and he wasn’t part of it. He feels as paralyzed as Spencer looks, tense, waiting for Spencer’s real reaction.

    “Oh. Sure, sure, totally different,” Spencer nods, tightening his jaw and frowning. “And since when is this happening? I mean, I know you… I know you since forever and, I don’t know, you’re my best friend, right? This should be something new. Right?”

    Ryan frowns, a little confused, and he licks his lips, looking around like he’s going to find the answer to that question written in one of the cushions on Spencer’s couch, hidden someplace with a label saying: ‘use this and everything will be great’.

    “ _This_ , as you call it, is not… I mean. I’m not.” Ryan goes blank and huffs, shifting on the couch, sitting closer to the edge and rubbing his hands together. “It’s not something you just wake up in the morning one day and say: ‘oh, wow, I like guys and girls now’. It’s…” He shrugs, looking at Spencer. “It just is.”

    Spencer nods but he doesn’t seem content with the answer. In fact, it looks like what Ryan just said has making him angry, if he wasn’t already.

    “There are people that takes their time, you know? Or just, I don’t know, maybe you went to a fucking orgy and suddenly you realized you didn’t mind another guy touching your cock.” Spencer spits out, and Ryan can read the signs, now he’s angry, Ryan can read it in how his face tenses up, how he squints his eyes. “But, no. You’re telling me you’ve been fucking dudes all your life and, therefore, treating me like I’m fucking dumb. That’s what you just said, right, Ryan?”

    Ryan makes a face and lowers his head, his chest rising when he takes a deep breath. He can feel the panic invading him, because he knows this won’t be as one of his usual absurd fights that end up forgotten after a few hours. And this is Spencer, his only family, and just now he’s realizing the mistake he’s made not telling him before.

    “It’s… It’s not easy, okay? I didn’t mean to lie to you, Spence, but I didn’t know how to tell you,” he justifies himself, looking at Spencer with his lip between his teeth. If his voice sounds pleading he doesn’t know, because the only thing he can hear are his own heartbeats.

    “Twenty years? For twenty fucking years, Ryan? It’s…” Spencer shakes his head no, bringing a hand to his chest. “I don’t understand. Really. I’m… I’m your best friend. I’ve tell you things I’ve… You know my whole fucking life, Ryan. And you decide to keep from me something that…” He takes a breath, huffing when he lets the air out and grimacing, looking at Ryan incredulous. “What did you think I was going to do? Did you think I would reject you or…? Is that it? Is that what you think of me?”

    “No.” Ryan denies it, clearing his throat. “No. I wanted to think you wouldn’t, that you wouldn’t do that to me. But… I don’t know, something kept me from being a hundred percent sure,” he explains desperate, as if he had a time limit to make Spencer understand why he did what he did. “It’s… It’s complicated, okay? You can expect something of someone, something that seems the logic thing, but it doesn’t have to happen that way. And it didn’t seem so important. Not to risk…” Ryan swallows and pushes his hair out of his face, looking around before going back to Spencer. “I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat, tightening his jaw and twisting his hands together on his lap.

    “Yeah. Sure. Awesome, everything fixed,” nods Spencer, huffing and shaking his head then, looking away for a second. But he’s not finished, Ryan knows him, he knows he’s not finished. That’s why it doesn’t surprise him when Spencer looks back at him, his features harsh, his eyes cold. “And you couldn’t risk what?” He asks, his voice lower but as serious as before. “You couldn’t risk telling me but you could risk letting know every random guy you’ve fucked? Have you think about that? You play for the fucking NHL, Ryan, everybody knows you, any of those guys could have gone right to the next tabloid and ruin your career, but you couldn’t risk me knowing? I hope, for your own good, that you were careful with that, by the way. Thank God this hasn’t come out. At least you met that girl, she better get your head out of the clouds…”

    “My head out of the clouds…” Ryan repeats unbelieving, grimacing and shaking his head no. “I wasn’t talking about that. I couldn’t risk telling you because you’re my fucking best friend, Spencer. If you don’t… I’m not stupid, okay? I’ve been careful.” His sentences are broken and disconnected. He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say because he just can think about how Spencer’s looking at him, so cold. “And I’m not seeing any girl.” He adds with a strangled voice, making a hurt face and lowering his head, bringing his hands to his head with a huff. This is going on so wrong he feels totally lost about what to do to make it better.

    “Don’t fuck with me, Ryan, you’re seeing someone. And I hope for your own good that is a girl.” Spencer warns, looking at him serious. “It _has_ to be a girl, you hear me? And if it’s not…” His voice gets harsher now. “You can’t. Look, if you’re being careful, it’s fine with me. But you can’t take this farther. You like girls, right? Well, find one and settle down.”

    Ryan frowns and moves back on the couch as if Spencer had just punched him in the face, looking at him startled and shaking his head no.

    “What are you telling me to do? To find some girl to use as a beard while I’m with whoever I want to be?” He asks unbelieving, blinking to clear his confusion, looking at Spencer unable to believe his best friend just said that. “Who do you think I am? Do you really think is so wrong to be with a guy?”

    “It’s not that, for fuck’s sake, Ryan. You’re not getting it,” Spencer seethes, and he gets more and more red. “I didn’t tell you to find a beard. You’re lucky you don’t need to do that. What? You think you’re the first sport player who likes cock? No, my friend, but you’re fucking lucky because you like chicks too. Don’t find a beard, find a girlfriend, fall in love, get married and all that shit. In the meantime, you can fuck any guy you want, but just as a casual thing, _just_ that, Ryan. If you don’t want to fuck up your career, fuck up the team. And no, I don’t think is wrong to be with a guy, but that’s what would happen if you were with one, everything would go to hell. So you better forget about “being with who you really want to be” unless who you want to be with has a pair of boobs.”

    Ryan can feel himself get pale, and maybe his whole brain decides to shut down because he doesn’t think he’s breathing either, he can’t speak and doesn’t feel his limbs. He just stays there, looking at Spencer as if he didn’t know him at all, because right now he’s not sure if that person in front of him is his best friend. The one who always said it’s worth risking everything for something you really love, the one who’s thinking about asking the love of his life to marry him. The same one who’s telling him he couldn’t do that if the love of his life happens to be a man.

    “I can’t believe you’re telling me this,” he says, unstable and unsure of his words, swallowing and blinking with his eyes wide open. “You. Of all people, you.”

    “Hey, listen,” Spencer reaches towards him with his hand, changing his voice but his eyes telling the same. “That came out wrong, okay? But, Ryan. I’m just saying it for your own good, you understand? You can’t…” He moves his head, leaving the sentence incomplete and breathing. “You’re not in love with a guy, right? You don’t need to worry. There are a lot of girls out there, good girls, Ryan. And I’m sure when you find the right one, you won’t even think about this. It’s not like I’m asking you to give someone up, right? I’m just saying… You know, casual sex, that’s fine. But for anything else, girls are safe. Dudes are not.”

    Ryan thought the worst thing that could happen was Spencer’s rejection. He didn’t think, it never occurred to him, about the possibility of Spencer saying this, telling him to hide that way, to _pretend_ he has a life he doesn’t even know if he wants to choose. And maybe Spencer said it’s fine with him if Ryan fucks some guys, but the rest of his words cancel that particular statement. Right now Ryan doesn’t care at all about Spencer thinking it’s fine if he fucks men, because his support is not such support, his support has conditions, it’s not real acceptance.

    He feels dizzy, his ears ringing and his hands trembling. He swallows to hydrate his throat and he doesn’t know what his face is showing right now, but he feels like he’s transfigured, like his mask has fallen to reveal he’s just a fool. A heavy weight tightens his chest and it’s hard to breathe, and it’s been a long time since the feeling of being abandoned hit him like this. He looks at Spencer and doesn’t see the brother he always saw since he was a little kid, he doesn’t see someone to feel safe with.

    The need of getting out of there overwhelms him suddenly, and he shakes his head fast, breathing deep, looking away from whom he thought his best friend. Maybe he still is, but Ryan doesn’t feel it like that.

    “You weren’t suppose to say those things,” he says with a hoarse voice, getting up from the couch and walking, stumbling, to get his things, his coat, his phone, his car keys, so fast he’s not even looking at what he’s doing, perceiving his surroundings in a weird way, like his eyes are not working right. He puts on his coat and puts his things in his pockets with trembling hands, still shaking his head no. “Not you,” he says, repeating it mumbled, as some twisted mantra.

    “Ryan, where are you going?” Spencer gets up too, following him. “You’re making a fuss about it. I didn’t say anything wrong. I just said things as they are, I don’t know why you’re taking it that way,” he says, moving his hands when he talks. “Did I say I thought it was wrong? No. I just told you to be careful. And to take advantage of your situation, dammit. Does it have to be a dude? Really? Is it so difficult to settle down with a girl?”

    Ryan stops right there and looks at him, tightening his jaw and opening his mouth a couple of times but not getting anything out of it, breathing deep to make his brain give the order and send words to his lips, even if Ryan doesn’t really know what he’s saying.

    “No,” he answers sincerely, grimacing then, “but is it so difficult for you not to ask me to pretend if in the end that doesn’t happen?” He asks, swallowing and shaking his head. “You have no fucking idea, Spence. I don’t care that you say it’s fine with you if then…” He looks at his friend with huge eyes before shaking his head again, the urgency chocking him. “I have to get out of here.”

    He doesn’t wait for Spencer to say something back, he turns around to go to the door, his breath sounding thicker than his steps as he walks, his hands balled into fists inside his pockets and his shoulders tense with his head low. He doesn’t feel attacked, really, but like if something were wrong with him, as if some part of him were dirty and he should feel ashamed. In a way, he knows what Spencer just said to him is not different that what he himself thinks, and that’s what he’s been doing, hiding when it comes to guys so it doesn’t affect his career. But it’s different to know it and do it, and to hear it from Spencer, with those words. Somehow, he made it sound so much worse.

    He gets out of the house without looking back at Spencer not even once, going right to his car with his eyes fixed on the floor, running away from that place like it burned in his veins. He gets on the car and starts it without really knowing where to go, like suddenly that neighborhood were strange, like that city weren’t his city and didn’t know what he could find just around the corner. He doesn’t care, and he gets out of there anyway, turning around and rubbing his face when he leaves the house behind, trying to get his vision clear, driving on automatic.

    It’s his brain what seems to guide him, because he’s not paying attention at what he’s doing. He can just think about Spencer’s face, his words, all of those things that sounded so wrong, so cold, so impersonal coming from the only family he has. He feels totally lost, his breath harsh and his throat dry, the lump in his throat chocking him and his hands unstable on the steering wheel. Maybe he shouldn’t be driving right now, but the only thing he can think about is getting as far as he can from Spencer’s house.

    Without being really conscious of what he’s doing, or maybe being really conscious of what he needs, he drives towards Washington Park, looking for the only place he feels safe right now, the only person who won’t make him feel more helpless than he already feels. He doesn’t think about the possibility of finding the house empty, of Brendon being somewhere else, busy. It’s the need what moves him, so big that, before he can think about it, he’s parking his car in Brendon’s place with the license he didn’t return. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he doesn’t really care.

    He climbs the stairs three steps at a time, and that doesn’t make his breath get calmer when he knocks the door. His eyes sting and his lips hurt for biting them so much, his hands are still trembling and he doesn’t think his face has much color right now. If he could think about something, it would probably be that Brendon’s going to find him making his best zombie impression.

 

 

 


	7. Face off

 

    7.

 

    Brendon didn’t expect any visit. It shows in the way he opens the door with a frown and a surprised look, in how he’s wearing an old t-shirt and what seems to be pajama pants, in the pizza slice half eaten in his hand, his mouth stained with oregano. He takes just a few seconds, what he needs to recognize Ryan, and his face changes completely, opening a smile and cleaning his mouth with the cuff of his shirt, laughing a little when he looks at it and see what he has just done.

    “Ry, what are you doing here?” He asks, and it doesn’t sound like a reproach, but almost like he were thanking him. Ryan wouldn’t have realized if it was a reproach anyway, he just twists his coat’s cuffs with his hands, his eyes running over Brendon’s face, searching for the safety feeling he seems to have lost, and swallowing over and over again before he can talk.

    “I didn’t know where to go,” he answers, and his voice sounds torn out on the edges, like Ryan used it too much instead of being silent all the way here like he was. His eyes burn and he blinks quickly trying to make the feeling go away.

    Brendon’s face changes again and his brows furrow, his lips twisting and his whole body changing its posture. He steps forward, whispering Ryan’s name as he brings a hand to Ryan’s face, placing it on his cheek for a few seconds before he takes it away and move it to his shoulder, pulling him in so he steps inside. Brendon gets closer again while he closes the door, but he bites his lip and stops, looking at him like he didn’t know what to do.

    “Do you want to…? Can I give you a hug?” He asks, looking at him worried, and Ryan feels his throat closing and just nods as he swallows, his body moving on its own and looking for the hug. Brendon embraces him immediately, surrounding him with his arms and tightening his grip, bringing one hand to Ryan’s head and tangling his fingers through his hair to make him lean against his shoulder. He whispers things on Ryan’s ear, or maybe they’re just comforting murmurs, and holds Ryan tighter when he buries his nose in Ryan’s hair. “You can come here whenever you want, whatever the reason. Don’t worry, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay, Ryan. I’m here with you.”

    Ryan buries his face in Brendon’s neck and grips his shirt harder in his fists, breathing uneven and deep, closing his eyes and letting Brendon’s smell and warmth soak his skin and senses, relaxing his posture with every breath, feeling bit by bit how his lungs seem to open up and his breath is less loud.

    Ryan feels Brendon’s arms around him like they were the glue keeping him whole, providing him with a place to breathe again, where he doesn’t feel defenseless. Brendon caresses his hair and keeps murmuring supporting words from time to time, letting Ryan use the hug as he pleases, as much as he needs. He doesn’t know how much time they stay like that but, in the end, Ryan moves slowly, relaxing his fists at first and releasing Brendon’s shirt then, drawing back a little and leaning his forehead on his shoulder.

    “I’m sorry for coming here unannounced and…” He says, swallowing and looking up, pushing his hair away and rubbing his cheeks as he sighs. Brendon shakes his head no quickly, frowning and holding Ryan’s face with his hand again, changing the gesture in the last moment and just pushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

    “It’s okay. Really. Come on, here. You want some pizza? Sit down, don’t…” He says, and he points with the hand holding the pizza slice at the open space in the entrance, moving his head to point at the couch. Ryan goes there as he unfastens his coat, feeling his movements slow but recovering the composure bit by bit, more or less.

    “No, I’m not hungry. Thank you,” he says, removing his coat and leaving it on the couch before he sits there with a sigh and brings his hands to his face, rubbing it and trying to clear his mind.

    Brendon looks at him. He does as he sits on the sofa too and crosses his legs under himself. He bites his lip a little and leaves the pizza slice inside the almost full pizza box on the small coffee table that’s in front of the couch and Ryan hadn’t seen before. He keeps looking at him a little more, not directly but with his body turned in his direction, and Ryan is sure this is the longer he’s seen Brendon in silence.

    “You don’t mind if I eat, do you?” Brendon says when he finally speaks, clearing his throat softly. “I didn’t have time to do it for almost the whole day and I’m a bit in need,” he says, showing a small smile at the end of the sentence. Ryan looks at him for a moment before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head without tearing his eyes off of him, feeling the tension leaving his shoulders a little.

    “No, I don’t mind. You eat, come on,” he answers, leaning back on the couch as he lets out a deep breath, keeping his eyes on Brendon the whole time, feeling how just his presence is making him feel less lost. It’s almost like Spencer’s house is in another world and not just miles from here. Thinking about Spencer makes him twist his face a little, biting his lip and looking down at his hands on his lap.

    Brendon nods and smiles before he takes his pizza slice again and finishes it all at once, grabbing another one and leaning back on the couch. He seems more relaxed now that he’s eating, less focused on Ryan or what to do and how to do it. However, he doesn’t say a word; he just looks at Ryan from time to time, like he was waiting for something.

    Ryan feels much better there, like he’s whole again, as if Brendon and his house were one of those forts he built when he was a kid to hide with Spencer. He doesn’t feel the need to run away anymore, he doesn’t drown nor feels like he can’t breathe. Now he just feels weird, like he just lost something important, shocked thinking about where he and Spencer stand now, after that conversation. He drops his head back on the sofa and closes his eyes, swallowing and feeling exhausted even though he didn’t do anything physical.

    “Spencer and I had a fight.” He says, grimacing and shrinking a little on the seat. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe is only me the one who fought, he seemed to think I was overreacting.”

    “Oh.” Brendon raises his eyebrows, swallowing, collecting himself on the couch like he didn’t expect Ryan to talk and now he wanted to pay him all of his attention. “Something about the team?” He asks, bringing pizza to his mouth again but chewing slower.

    “No… No.” Ryan answers, and behind his eyelids he can see Spencer’s face when he said he was bisexual. “It was because… because I told him I like guys.” He says, and it sounds so stupid in his ears he has to laugh, frowning and swallowing then. Brendon’s face changes instantly, all the joy he seems to always carry on his face disappearing completely. “You should have seen how he looked at me… I mean. We’ve fought a lot of times; we have said pretty awful things to each other. _Horrible_ things. But I have never seen him looking at me like that,” he finishes, lowering his voice, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Brendon.

    Brendon just stares at him for longer than it’s usually polite. The pizza is still half eaten in his hand but he doesn’t seem to have the intention to keep eating it. He’s still, very still, more than Ryan has ever seen Brendon.

    “You owe him nothing, okay? Not him, not anyone.” Brendon says when he speak, and his voice sounds dark, like it carries something behind it. “Whatever problem he thinks he has with you, it’s just his. You don’t… You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me?” He asks, making a gesture with his head. Ryan looks at him closely and nods slowly, breathing in again and letting it out slow.

    “I thought the worst thing that could happen was he rejecting me, you know? That somehow he were disgusted by what I do or whatever, but.” He stops and swallows, his eyes going far away for a moment as he tries to understand why Spencer chose to say all of those things among everything he could have said. “It’s not so different from what I’ve been doing… hiding so it doesn’t affect hockey. But hearing him say it, telling me to find a girl I can fall in love with… It sounded so _wrong_. Like something inside me was just defective.” He explains, staring off into space, grimacing. Brendon twists his lips, like he understands. He probably is the most appropriate person to get it. He sighs a little, leaving the pizza slice in the box and closing it, getting comfortable on the sofa again.

    “Was it your first time? You know, telling someone,” Brendon asks, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. Ryan nods, looking at the ceiling.

    “It’s not like I have anyone else to tell.” He says, shrugging. “My father… we don’t talk that much and it’s something that’s better unsaid. He doesn’t need more reasons to feel disappointed with his son. Well, that’s how I feel about it, anyway. It doesn’t matter now. Spencer…” Ryan takes air in again, biting the inside of his lip. “We never talked about it and I took advantage of it and didn’t say a thing. I let him assume it was just girls… It was easier than losing the only family I had, I guess.”

    Brendon looks at him without saying anything, twisting his lips when Ryan finishes talking and changing his position, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them. He rests his chin on one of them and looks away, biting his lip harder and pulling at it over and over again as he moves his shoulders.

    “And Ginger?” He asks then, looking at Ryan again with hope. “Maybe she… Do you think she’d take it better? She’s important to you, right? She’s family, too.”

    Ryan nods, thinking about Ginger, imagining the situation, he going to her home, talking to her and telling her the truth. In his mind, Ginger would play it down and hug him, telling him to be honest with himself and follow his heart. In reality, he wants to believe it would be something of the sort, but the doubt is always there, like it was with Spencer, and that didn’t go so well.

    “I want to think she would. Take it better, I mean. That she wouldn’t mind at all.” He says, looking at Brendon then. “But, how can I know? I didn’t expect this from Spencer, either. I mean, he doesn’t mind, or so he says. But… I don’t care he doesn’t mind if he puts conditions on it, you know? If he tells me to hide it because it can end my career. I know that, I know what it means to be an athlete and being with a guy. But that’s the only thing he has to say? He asking me to _lie_ about what I feel. He made me feel like it was wrong to feel it. And I don’t… I’ve never felt so abandoned by my own brother. Never,” he repeats, looking down and swallowing. Brendon doesn’t say anything and Ryan can only hear him breathing and swallowing, moving a little on his seat and sighing.

    “It’s been five years since I last saw my brothers and sisters.” Brendon says when he talks, his voice full of so many aspects it’s hard to unravel them in order to understand them whole. “And my parents too, in fact,” he adds, laughing short and bitter, his eyes fixed on a far away point. Ryan looks at him, listening. “Since I left Vegas. Well, since they decided it was better for me to leave... I have two nephews I never met, and another one who was seven months old the last time I saw him.” His voice breaks a little at the end and he shifts on the couch as he clears his throat. “So, I’m sorry, Ry, but I’m not the most appropriate person to tell you things can be better. I’m really sorry. I’d like to be more helpful.”

    Ryan looks at him for a while, and Brendon didn’t say why his parents decided it was better for him to leave but Ryan is not stupid and he just needs to link a few things to know the reason. He watches him and, despite everything he just went through with Spencer, he can’t even start to imagine what it had to be for Brendon the rejection of his own family. He sighs and reaches out with his arm enough to touch Brendon, grabbing one of his ankles and squeezing soft, letting his fingers slide under the pajama fabric to draw patterns on his skin.

    “I didn’t come here for you to tell me things can be better,” he says, smiling small. “So don’t worry. You’re already helping.” He murmurs, and it’s true. It’s not just the fact that Brendon gets him like no one else does because he’s gone through something even worse, but he makes Ryan feel better just listening to him, he was doing it without telling Ryan about himself. Telling him something Ryan is sure almost no one around him knows. “Does Cassie know?”

    Brendon smiles and nods, looking at Ryan again but gazing at the hand around his ankle for a second. He makes a face, bringing his hand to it and rubbing his eyes a little.

    “Yeah, she… she was the one who...” Brendon makes a gesture, shaking his head then and clearing his throat. “I told you Cassie helped me get into the University of Chicago, right? Well, she knew about everything. The summer we met, the year we spent talking, I said I was thinking about telling my parents and she supported me. She told me that, in the end, they were my parents and they wouldn’t take it wrong. So I did.” He says, shrugging. “It didn’t go well. And, well, I was just seventeen, you know? I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life, if I was going to graduate, if I was going to survive.” He snorts a laugh, looking down. “I think Cassie felt guilty, or responsible, I don’t know. It wasn’t her fault, it was my decision. But she offered me her home, for as long as I needed it. The bummer was her house were here in Chicago.” Brendon looks at Ryan again, smiling a little. “I did my last high school year here and then the scholarship and all that, I could get in the university. I got distinctions the first year because I spent hours helping Cassie study for her exams.” He laughs, twisting his face. “And that’s how I got here. With a million debts because of the degree and few material possessions, but...” He shrugs, resigned, “I don’t know, it could have been worse.”

    “You have something better than any material possession,” Ryan says, looking at Brendon like he had just discovered a new and amazing species. Getting to know Brendon is like taking layers off of a mysterious object, and Ryan feels like, the more he sees, the more it fascinates him. He keeps drawing patterns with his fingertips on Brendon’s skin, unable to understand how any person could want to throw him out of their life. “I’m sorry not everyone can see it.”

    “Cassie. Yeah, she… she’s awesome,” Brendon nods, smiling as he shrugs a little and releases his legs from his grip, letting the one Ryan's touching slide a little closer to him. “I don’t really care about people not knowing. What she’s for me, I mean. If they don’t see it like that, whoever doesn’t see the incredible person she’s with me, they’ll see how amazing she is in general.”

    Ryan smiles small and looks at Brendon, shaking his head no and letting his fingers venture a little higher, letting the ankle behind and touching his calf.

    “I wasn’t talking about Cassie,” he says to Brendon, running his eyes over his features, the curve of his nose and his eyebrow’s cowlicks, his sharp jaw line and full lips. Brendon frowns for a second, twisting his lips and tilting his head, almost like Aunt Em does when Ryan talks to her.

    “You weren’t?” He asks, looking around for a moment like he was searching for what Ryan is talking about. “Then…?”

    “You.” Ryan says, shrugging like it was obvious, shifting lightly so he can rest his head better on the couch, turning it again to keep looking at Brendon. “You're more valuable than anything any of them can have.”

    Ryan can feel how Brendon’s skin stands up on end under his fingertips before he can see his cheeks blushing. Brendon laughs nervously and shakes his head quickly, bringing one hand to his face and covering his cheek like he could prevent Ryan from seeing him blush that way.

    “What an idiot,” he murmurs as he keeps shaking his head, letting his eyes wander through the room as far as possible from Ryan’s gaze still fixed on him, and taking air to let it out through his nose while he laughs again.

    “You weren't supposed to insult me,” Ryan jokes, smiling small and squeezing softly Brendon’s leg with his hand, looking away at the ceiling and closing his eyes with a silent sigh. He’s tired, more than he thought, he feels it in the way his body relaxes against the couch.

    “I’m sorry. I’m not used to…” Brendon starts the sentence laughing, but the laugh stops at the same time he shuts up. Ryan hears him swallowing and feels him uneasy as he touches him, all of his body giving out some instability. “Ryan.” He calls him then, his voice almost anxious. Ryan opens his eyes and looks at him again, paying him all of his attention.

    “What?” He asks even though he already let him know he’s listening just looking at him, intrigued because he has never heard Brendon talks with that voice, almost worried.

    “I know it’s not the best time, and I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” He begins to talk, breathing in and huffing, licking his lips and closing his eyes, twisting his face as he looks at Ryan again. “But it’s just… I want… You should… Fuck.” He brings a hand to his face to rub it. Ryan frowns confused. “I like you, okay? More than… Well, you know it, I told you and… I’m not asking for anything. I mean, I know…” He shakes his head, snorting a laugh. “It’s like, impossible for you to… But you have to know it, because it’s fair. Maybe you want to put distance or, I don’t know, give me a solution of some sort because…” He shrugs, laughing a little more, although it's the farthest of a funny laugh Ryan has ever heard. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m… This is not what I planned. I swear.” He finishes, looking at Ryan with his eyebrows furrowed and his lip between his teeth.

    Ryan’s frown disappear and he looks at Brendon for a few seconds before sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, bringing his free hand to his face and pushing the hair off his forehead as he hears Brendon murmuring ‘I’m sorry, I'm sorry’ over and over again. Saying Ryan hasn’t thought about what Brendon said that night would be a lie, the same way it would be a lie if Ryan said that didn’t put a bubbling feeling in his guts and a warm one in his chest. And it does it again, now. He looks at Brendon once more, biting his lip, his mind running in all directions.

    “Don’t apologize,” he says, sitting up a little on the couch, letting his hand slide up a bit more under Brendon pants, touching softly the curve of his knee with his fingertips. He breathes in and lets the air out with a huff, turning until he’s sitting facing Brendon, thinking he’s never been in a situation like this one but he can’t do anything but admit he feels the same about him. “God, we’re in good trouble, right?” He says, laughing breathy and shaking his head. Brendon laughs slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and making a resigned face.

    “A little…” Brendon answers with half smile, resting his forehead on one of his knees for a second, looking at Ryan again then. “I mean, or not. Actually… it’s. It’s my own business, you don’t have any reason to… I mean.” He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh, pointing at Ryan then. “I swear I didn’t…!”

    “It’s not just your business,” Ryan interrupts him, watching Brendon closely and biting the inside of his lip compulsively. Brendon stays with his half sentence hanging in the air, his lips still open, closing slowly the hand that still points at Ryan.

    “It’s not… Okay. Okay.” Brendon murmurs, nodding and this time resting his chin on his knee, biting his lips and letting out a small nervous laugh that matches the color his cheeks are filling up with. “Yeah, then… Well, shit.” He laughs more, making a face. Ryan’s lips close in a thin line and he nods because, yeah, that’s an accurate definition of his situation right now. He gets closer to Brendon on the couch, moving almost unaware that he’s doing it, and if he wanted to, he could rest his chin on Brendon’s knee too, but he doesn’t, just looks at him and swallows, moving his lips in a thoughtful gesture.

    “We’re fucked.” He concludes, and it would seem funny to Ryan except it isn’t funny at all. “Listen...” He starts to say, but the sentence dies there because he really doesn’t know what to say. He has the feeling that he has to say something, make a decision of some sort, but he has no idea what to do about all this.

    “What if…?” Brendon starts talking, but he stops for a second, his eyes running over Ryan’s face like he were looking for the answer to his question even before asking it. “I mean… It’s been fine during this time, right? Or, well, before we… I actually missed you these last weeks.” He says, lowering his voice and twisting his lips, like he was saying something he shouldn’t. “But, apart from that…”

    Ryan makes a whining noise with his throat and looks away for a moment because Brendon’s confession makes something tighten inside his chest, and because maybe he’s been taking advantage of how busy he was with hockey to avoid thinking about the fact that he’s been missing him too.

    “God, you’re not making it any easier for me,” he jokes, giggling and shaking his head, biting his bottom lip and pulling on it as he looks back at Brendon, letting the air out through his nose and clearing his throat. “It’s hard to think when you’re so close, you know?”

    “I’m sorry,” Brendon apologizes again, but this time doesn’t sound like the others, it doesn’t sound like an apology at all. He doesn’t look away from Ryan as he says it, doesn’t move, and doesn’t blink and, if it weren’t because Ryan heard the words, it’d seem like he said something totally different.

    “Liar,” Ryan murmurs, smiling small and licking his lips unconsciously when his gaze wanders towards Brendon’s mouth for a moment, seeing how Brendon laughs guiltily. Ryan looks up again quickly like he was caught doing something wrong, finding Brendon’s eyes and swallowing, leaning in just to rest his chin in one of Brendon’s knees, his fingers squeezing softly around his leg. “I’ve never…” Ryan sighs, focused on Brendon’s brown eyes, lowering his voice like he were telling a secret. “I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

    Brendon shrugs a little, resting one hand on his own knee and leaning his chin on it, sighing and failing to try and hide a small smile growing sideways on his face. They’re not inches apart, but they’re close, maybe too close, enough for Ryan to be unable to see Brendon’s face completely, but seeing just parts of it.

    “You don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to…” Brendon shrugs, twisting his lips before he talks again, looking softly at Ryan’s. “We can just see what happens. If it works, good. If it doesn’t, well… we can always to stop.”

    “It’s…” Ryan begins to say, but his senses are too blurred. The only thing on his range of vision is Brendon, his skin hot under his hand, like it always seems to be, smelling like after-shave and pizza and home. Ryan moves his chin to get closer, so slowly it almost seems like he’s trying Brendon not to notice, swallowing again and looking down at Brendon’s lips, this time fixing his eyes there. “We can… We could, yeah. But, you know.” He murmurs, less and less focused on what he’s saying. In fact, he doubts he’s making much sense right now, it’s not like he’s finishing the sentences. Brendon laughs again, deep, calm, nodding with his head as he leans closer.

    “We can always to stop,” he repeats, whispering, and the words hit Ryan’s lips warmly.

    “You’re too close to stop,” Ryan answers, and somehow that’s not exactly what he wanted to say, but he can’t stop and correct himself now. The only thing he’s able to do is to close the distance between his and Brendon’s mouth to touch him, even if it’s just touching him, caressing with his half open lips and closed eyes. His fingers hold a little tighter on Brendon’s leg and Ryan uses his free hand to get his fingers between Brendon’s locks, breathing like he just discovered he could use the air.

    It’s not even a second later when Brendon opens his lips against Ryan’s, fitting them together like they were two perfect pieces. He looks for his tongue and moans into his mouth when he finds it, bringing one hand to his face and holding him like he thought he could run away. Brendon’s burning, his skin, his mouth, his whole body radiates heat when he moves on the couch to get closer to Ryan, moving the leg Ryan isn’t holding and passing it over his lap, getting as close to him as he can.

    Ryan breathes warm into his mouth, his breath mixing with Brendon’s, and slides his hand down to round his waist, turning so he’s leaning against the couch back and pulling Brendon with him, still kissing him, opening his lips more and making the kiss deeper as Brendon gets comfortable straddling him. Ryan moves his hand up on Brendon’s leg, sliding his fingers up until the pants fabric wrinkle and doesn’t allow him to move anymore.

    “It could be worse, right?” Brendon gasps, moving his mouth along Ryan’s jaw line when he breaks the kiss, reaching his ear and catching the lobe between his teeth. “I could not be just close, I could be  _inside_ too.” He adds referring to what Ryan said before and making it lose all sense right now.

    “You should be inside,” Ryan answers, not really knowing what he’s saying, breathing between gasps and biting his own lip, his whole body reacting at once because of the need, burning from head to toe. “You should get inside.” He pants, arching a little on the couch and pushing Brendon against him out of instinct, turning his head, looking for his mouth again.

    Brendon laughs against his lips, biting the kiss and getting his hands under Ryan’s shirt, touching the skin with his fingers before he rests his hands flat on it, starting to slide them over his chest. He brings the fabric with him as he goes, still kissing Ryan, and he breaks the kiss just to get rid of the clothing.

    “It’s late.” He says, looking for a second at the large window, laughing through his nose when his gaze returns to Ryan, who is looking at him like he was speaking in a dead language. “It’s time to go to bed, don’t you think?”

    Ryan bites his lip and his eyes get darker as he starts to nod, sliding his hand out of Brendon’s pants and moving both of them to his hips, squeezing like he was holding on a cliff, leaning in to open his mouth on the skin of Brendon’s neck, licking him, kissing him, biting him softly.

    “It’s time you take me to your bed, yeah.” He murmurs, groaning hoarse from his chest as he feels himself growing inside his pants’ fabric. “There’s more room for everything you have to do to me.”

    Brendon smiles wide as he licks his lips like Ryan just told him he has a complete pass to an all-you-can-eat buffet. He pushes with his hips, rubbing against Ryan enough for him to feel how he’s not getting behind, grabbing his wrist then and getting off the couch just to pull at him. He guides Ryan roughly to the room, like he didn’t have time to waste and wanted him against the mattress as soon as possible, digging his fingers in his hips when he turns him around and pushes him to the bed, and closing the door with an accurate movement of his foot without distracting himself from Ryan.

    Brendon has his hands opening Ryan’s jeans at the same time he slides his mouth over the skin of his neck, biting him as he pleases, kissing him when he reaches his lips and licking, tasting him and groaning pleased. Ryan moans and stretches and smiles with his lip between his teeth the whole time, kissing Brendon back eagerly. Brendon just breaks the kiss when he has to pull the clothes down by the waist but leaving it hanging on Ryan’s hips. He smiles then, dark and full of bad intentions, pulling on his lip with his teeth before he grabs Ryan’s hip firmly and turns him around on the bed, getting all over him to kiss him softly on the back of his neck.

    Ryan hisses when the friction against the mattress sends shivers up his spine, moaning obscene as he feels Brendon on top of him. He rests his elbows on the bed and lets his head fall down to give Brendon more space, pushing up with his hips a little to feel him against his ass, closing his eyes and swearing between gasps. Brendon kisses him again, as soft as before, starting to run his lips along his spine, stopping at each vertebra, touching with his tongue sometimes or just kissing, but always sliding down.

    Brendon’s fingers go back to the jean’s waist, grabbing the boxers’ fabric at the same time and starting to pull them down slowly as his mouth begins to wander through Ryan’s lower back, the deep valley there. He goes up the curve of his buttocks, pulling down the fabric to expose as much skin as he needs to keep kissing.

    Ryan grabs the pillow with his hands just to hold on something because it seems he’s going to fall down even though he’s lying on the mattress, tightening his fingers and feeling how his skin stands up on end because of the sensations, because of Brendon’s lips touch, his warm breath as he breathes and the dampness of his kisses. Brendon opens his mouth over one of his buttocks at the same time he finishes lowering down the clothes roughly, leaving them wrapped around his thighs while he bites the smooth skin, the well worked muscle. He bites hard, making Ryan moan, pushing his tongue flat against the flesh and sucking to leave a mark, grunting once more before he slides up his hands and grabs Ryan with both of them, pushing his buttocks together before he gets his tongue between them without pulling them apart, just letting Ryan feel a bit of what’s to come.

    Ryan’s knuckles turn white when he tightens his hold on the pillow, murmuring words he doesn’t even know if they exist, his whole body tensing up and his legs opening, expecting, his skin getting hotter just because of the anticipation. Ryan looks at Brendon over his shoulder, his mouth half open and his eyes almost liquid. This is new between them, and now it’s there, so close to him, Ryan thinks his whole body is going to burst into flames if he doesn’t have Brendon’s mouth on him right now.

    It hasn’t been a lot of times Ryan has experimented Brendon to the maximum. Ryan’s used to be in charge, share it, but there hasn’t been a lot of times he just let Brendon do whatever he wanted to him. He knows how Brendon is in bed, he knows he’s a chameleon, he adapts to everything you ask for, he can give it to you. He knows Brendon likes to talk, likes to provoke and, right now, right when he’s about to let Brendon be totally Brendon with him, without restrictions, he’s realizing he likes to play too.

    It’s the way he laughs, vibrating against Ryan’s skin because he has his lips right on his skin, hoarse and deep, what tells him he’s totally in Brendon’s hands. And they are the first thing Ryan feels running over his inner thighs, putting the clothes down more to open his legs, grabbing one of the pillows to put it under Ryan’s hips and taking advantage of the movement to brush Ryan’s erection accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally.

    “You have a pretty ass,” he says, drawing his mouth back to smack him where he still can feel the marks of his teeth, making Ryan’s breath get stuck on his throat, gasp, Brendon kissing him again there. “Have I told you that before? It’s very, very pretty,” he repeats as he grips the buttocks once more, pulling them apart, exposing Ryan and touching him softly along the crack with the tip of his fingers until they reach the ring of muscle. “You’re pretty everywhere, it seems. And you’re making me salivate because of how much I want to taste you.”

    “God, Bren,” Ryan murmurs with the voice hoarse, letting his head fall down between his arms, his eyes closing on his own as he bites his lip compulsively. He lets out a short laugh, more out of incredulity than anything else because they have just started and he already feels his skin stretching with the need of having Brendon closer, _inside_.

    “You think it’s a joke?” Brendon asks, laughing too before Ryan can feel the heat of his body close again, his tongue touching where his fingers still are, how his spit wets him and makes him slide easily. “It’s not a joke, Ryan.” Brendon answers, pressing a little with his fingers right before he puts them away and uses his hands to keep him open, kissing him right there with his lips open, licking him before he twists his tongue to try and get inside Ryan’s body.

    Ryan opens his mouth in a gasp, like someone who tries to get air after too much time under water, his body twisting not so subtly on the bed, holding on the sheets as if his life depended on it. He leans his forehead against the pillow, pushing up with his hips to look for more of Brendon, feeling the pleasure in every nerve ending because he hasn’t done this a lot before, but he thinks it’s never felt like this.

    Brendon hands move from where they are and he manages to keep Ryan open to slide one of his thumbs, joining it where his tongue touches him and pressing from time to time, just a little, softly, almost like he doesn’t want to get inside, just stimulate the zone, activating all the skin’s nerve endings. Brendon draws back just a little, taking advantage of it to touch him more, running his hands over Ryan’s ass, sliding his nails, then his lips, biting him softly before he comes back where he was.

    He digs his fingers in the skin at the same time he tries to get his tongue deep inside Ryan, all he can, touching him with the tip as he moves back, touching every little inch of him before he tries again, over and over, trying to make him give in, getting closer with every movement. Ryan feels himself shake and usually he’s not a loud person, but he can’t stay silent in bed if you know what to do. Brendon has him moaning and gasping and grunting over and over again, sometimes louder, little whines others, from his chest and dragged from his throat. Ryan doesn’t hear himself, just feels his heartbeat in his ears and his skin burning, Brendon’s mouth making him melt.

    “On your knees, come on.” He hears Brendon’s voice hoarse and crackly, following by a smack on his ass and his hands rounding his hips and pulling him up before Ryan can do it himself.

    Ryan only has time to stabilize himself and get in place before he feels two fingers opening its way into his body at once while Brendon’s mouth leave a trail of hickeys from his ass to his inner thigh. The fingers start moving right after that, not stopping for a second, and Ryan doesn’t last to feel Brendon’s other hand getting between his legs, pushing against his erection before he rounds it with the fist and start touching him slowly. Brendon’s mouth moves up again, opening up where his fingers are, putting his tongue between them and turning his head to bite Ryan sometimes.

    “I would eat you alive, I swear to God.” He grunts against his ass cheek, licking and biting, then. “I don’t even know what to do with you. You drive me crazy.”

    Ryan moans long and obscene, sliding his hands on the sheets under the pillow until he holds on the edge of the mattress, leaving his chest and face against the bed and stretching like a cat, turning his head to look at Brendon all he can from that angle as he bites his lip and moves against him. A thin layer of sweat covers his skin and his muscles tremble from time to time because of Brendon’s touch, the way his fingers move inside him and how he holds him in his hand and touches him. Brendon was right that day he said he had a lot of thing to show him. Ryan doesn’t think he can survive all of them.

    “Brendon.” He groans, rubbing his forehead on the mattress to clean the sweat away, looking at him again with his mouth half open and dark eyes, moving to look for more of his fingers, of his hand. “Fuck, Bren.”

    “Ryan… I have to…” Brendon gets closer, crawling over his body, pushing with his hand on Ryan’s back to hold him against the mattress until Ryan can feel Brendon’s knees at the inside of his own, the erection still covered by the pajama pants pushing furious against his ass. Brendon’s fingers get out of his body and pull on the pajama covering him almost right away, and the hotness that flows over Ryan as he feels Brendon’s cock between his buttocks is immediate, feeling him moving along his ring of muscle, sliding because of the spit covering his skin.

    Ryan nods, nods so fast he thinks it’s making him dizzy, or maybe that’s because his lungs seem not to function anymore. He nods and opens his legs automatically, feeling the heat spreading through his body as if Brendon were burning him where he touches him, arching his back.

    “Come on, Brendon.” He begs, or it’s more like a demand, because he’s so desperate he doesn’t even control his voice anymore. Ryan licks his lips and moves one of his hands to push his hair away from his face in a quick movement, bringing it then over his back to Brendon, grabbing him wherever he can reach without knowing where it is, just to dig his fingers there, impatient. Brendon grunts and Ryan feels how he grips himself, positioning as he says ‘yeah, yeah, okay’, moving tentatively before he starts to push inside. He does it just a little before he lets out a desperate groan and draws away from Ryan, swearing in every language.

    “No, fuck!” He mumbles, crawling over Ryan’s body as he keeps grumbling, reaching out with his hand to one of the nightstands’ drawer and opening it so fast he almost put it out, starting to search inside. “The fucking condoms, dammit. Motherfucking shit, fuck!” He swears once more and it would be funny if it weren’t because the need is eating them alive. Ryan growls impatient, unable to wait and bringing his own hand over his back, using two fingers as poor substitutes of Brendon as he finds the condoms, sighing and biting his lip, smiling satisfied when he founds the right point where to touch.

    “Come on, Bren.” He hurries him, letting out a high moan when he touches himself harder than he intended to and tenses up, his legs shaking slightly. Brendon goes back to his position quickly, and Ryan doesn’t even know if he’s found what he was looking for until the characteristic smell of latex fill up the room. Ryan doesn’t have time to start pulling back his fingers when Brendon grabs him hard by the wrist, stopping him and making Ryan push them farther inside.

    “Hey, hey, hey. Where do you think you’re going?” Brendon asks, the predatory smile showing in his tone. “You decided to get some fun without me, right? Well, now we both are gonna have fun.” He whispers, leaning over Ryan’s body to place his lips behind his ear, letting a soft kiss there as he positions himself where Ryan’s fingers are, starting to push with them still inside, making the channel impossibly tight. “Shh, like that. You feel it?”

    Ryan’s eyes close on its own accord and his mouth opens as he tries to breath, gasping Brendon’s name, feeling his body give in with more difficulty than usually. He didn’t know that side of Brendon, he didn’t know about the existence of that tone of voice he just used with him, about the way he’s imposing his law. He didn’t know either what that could do to his body, that it would have him shuddering and more desperate than ever, leaning his head back to look for Brendon’s mouth impatient. Ryan finds it right there, he finds his mouth, his lips, his tongue and teeth, kissing him like he wanted to devour him, bringing one hand to Ryan’s face so he doesn’t lose the angle, grunting into his mouth when he starts to thrust against him.

    “Don’t pull them out.” He says, giving Ryan a short kiss before he keeps talking. “Leave them inside. Keep touching yourself.” He asks, squeezing Ryan’s wrist one last time before he releases it, kissing him again when he moves the hand to his erection, wrapping it and taking the rhythm he’s keeping with his hips.

    The angle is uncomfortable and Ryan muscles are going to feel it tomorrow, along the rest of days he’s going to feel this anytime he walks, but right now it feels like heaven itself. The way Brendon’s touching him, kissing him, moving inside him. He can feel it there, he can feel him sliding against his fingers, so much he thinks he’s going to lose his voice due to the moans, pants and grunts that don’t seem able to stop leaving his throat, going right into Brendon’s mouth, biting him and breathing him and saying his name over and over again along with whatever that keeps him going, do it harder, deeper, more.

    “I want you to come.” Brendon growls, leaving his mouth to go down to his neck, biting him right behind the jaw line. “I want to feel you moving your fingers against me, how you touch yourself right where you like the most as I touch you as good as I know.” He says, showing Ryan what’s he’s talking about when he twists his wrist and slides his hand expertly around Ryan’s cock, moving his fingers, gripping, tightening. “And I want you to come. Because I won’t do it until I feel you spilling over my hand.”

    Ryan moans and breathes a short laugh because Brendon is talking as if it was possible for him not to come. Like it existed a remote possibility in the world, or any parallel universe, where Ryan could _not_ come right now. Just hearing Brendon talking to him like that would be enough, and the surprising thing to Ryan is he didn’t come already, the moment Brendon said the last word.

    “I don’t’ think you should worry.” He gasps, moving his fingers all he can and moaning strangled. “If I don’t come I’ll die. I’d die happy, that’s for sure.” He jokes, turning his face more and stretching his neck so Brendon can have more room, trembling when he touches himself right where he wants and Brendon does a turn with his wrist that makes his breath stop, starting to feel closer than Ryan thought.

    Brendon laughs hoarse and panting, beginning to kiss Ryan’s skin, biting him softly as he counteract those caresses with the brutality he uses to thrust inside him, digging his fingers into Ryan’s hips to keep him there, making the bed hit the wall with every thrust. He whispers his name as he gets his nose through the hair, pushing himself against Ryan, making their skins touch as much as possible.

    Ryan feels his legs weaken and his muscles shake, tense, his whole body preparing itself for what he’s feeling growing in his groin, the wave of heat burning him from the inside and turning his skin red on his chest, neck and cheeks. It makes him tighten the hold on the mattress and lose the pace of his fingers and murmurs Brendon’s name with urgency as if he were the only one who can save him from the cliff he’s about to fall off, even though Brendon’s the one pushing him over it.

    “I’m gonna… oh, God, _God_.” It’s the only warning that lets out his mouth before Ryan can feel the explosion from the center of his body going everywhere, inside and outside, like an earthquake wave that happens very deep inside the earth but even more intense. The orgasm runs through him from head to toe with more force than Ryan expected, leaving him breathless for a moment, unable to hear or see anything, just feel the way his skin seems to stretch, his muscles jerking impossibly, his whole body shaking with the release of energy, coming out as a rough moan.

    It seems like he comes and comes and comes, his whole body moving to look for Brendon, to have him closer, to feel him in every inch of skin as his own melts while Brendon keeps going. Ryan rubs his face on Brendon’s, breathing hard, feeling his nerve endings shaking until it seems like he’s never going to come back to normal.

    It’s just when he’s done, when Brendon has wring Ryan out to the last drop, that Brendon draws back, kissing him one last time before sitting up, releasing Ryan and pulling out of him at once, holding his wrist once more while he takes the condom off with his free hand. He rubs against Ryan, so hard, so desperate it seems he’s going to get inside again, but he doesn’t. Instead he growls Ryan’s name, moaning it when he tightens the hold on his wrist, his breath totally erratic. The sounds get stuck on his throat when Brendon comes, covering Ryan’s ass in white, painting it and dripping over him. He stains his fingers, his hand, touching with the tip of his cock where Ryan is still open, letting out a ragged moan before the pulls totally back, and falling exhausted next to Ryan on the bed.

    Ryan moves to get on his back on the mattress, breathing hard with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, letting out a laugh when he tries to think about a way to describe what just happened and doesn’t find it. His shoulder is sore for being so much time with his arm twisted back, all of his muscles complaining as he stretches and he can already feel he’s going to feel Brendon for several days. But he feels like he’s floating on a cloud, all his skin prickling.

    “Hey, physio.” He says, turning his head to look at Brendon with an amused smile. “You’ll have to loosen my muscles after this. And not stretching them like you just did… I can’t do that again now.” He laughs, reaching out with his hand to push Brendon’s sweaty hair off his face. Brendon looks at him and opens his mouth to talk, but the need to breath wins and he ends up just laughing, nodding and raising his thump up before he brings his hand to his face to rub it.

    “Fuck.” It’s the first thing coming out his mouth without getting stuck, looking at Ryan and smiling wide, panting and blinking like he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing. “My god, Ryan.” He says, bursting out laughing, looking at the ceiling as he does and getting his breath back. He looks at Ryan again, raising one arm and letting his hand on Ryan’s chest, moving his fingers. “Hey, I didn’t overstep there, right? With all that…” He makes a gesture with his hand, trying to explain what he didn’t say.

    “Did it look like you where overstepping?” Ryan asks, laughing a little and breathing deep, letting the air out so his heartbeat slows down to normal. He shakes his head no then as an answer, still smiling at him and moving his fingers on Brendon’s locks, massaging his head a little before he draws his hand back and lets his arm fall on the mattress like a dead weight.

    “I don’t know, I have never been so… like that.” Brendon laughs, shrugging as much as his muscles allow him. “But you… Fuck, Ryan.”

    “Do I look like a submissive person or… I don’t know, something like that?” He asks, joking, getting comfortable on the bed with a tired moan and a sigh, pulling a laugh out of Brendon. “As I said… full of surprise.”

    “Submissive? No, not at all.” Brendon answers, shaking his head no, staring at the ceiling with a smile and putting his hand behind his neck as a pillow. “But it seems like you make me lose the little control I have.”

    “You got all bossy there.” Ryan comments with a smile, yawing big suddenly as he looks at Brendon. “I’d had never said you were like that in bed.”

    “I’m a lot of things in bed. It’s one of my many virtues.” Brendon answers, turning his head and smiling big, shrugging then. “I just do what my body tells me to, or the other person. It can never happen again, if you want. Or happen more often. I’m an _à la carte_ boy.”

    “I noticed that.” Ryan says with an appreciative gesture, watching him in silence for a few seconds before he talks again, shrugging. “You can do whatever you feel like. I’m not exquisite when it comes to sex. Even less if the person knows what they’re doing.” He adds, winking at him and laughing short, staying silent the when his eyes fix on the ceiling.

    “Awesome. I’ll take the gag and the whip out the next time.” Brendon jokes, sliding his hand up on Ryan’s chest and pinching one of his nipples, laughing when Ryan jumps a little. “You know? That’s one of the things I like about you, right that.”

    “Pinching my nipple?” Ryan asks amused, moving his hand and grabbing Brendon’s on his chest to prevent him from doing it again. Brendon laughs and shakes his head no, turning so he’s lying on his side, resting his cheek on one hand.

    “I meant that, you know. We get each other.” He says, winking him then with a crooked smile. “We get _into_ each other.” He adds, laughing at his own bad joke then. Ryan laughs too and shakes his head, bringing his free hand to his face and covering his eyes for a moment.

    “How old are you?” He asks, joking, looking at Brendon then more serious but still smiling. “I get what you say.” He says, thinking he has never clicked with someone in bed like this. Not outside bed either. Not like this.

    He looks down where his hand is over Brendon’s on his chest, moving it to play with Brendon’s fingers, watching the difference between their hands, Ryan’s more thin and delicate, Brendon’s more masculine somehow, even though it’s not ruder than his. A few seconds go by before Brendon moves his fingers too, turning his hand and leaving it with the palm up, touching Ryan’s fingers with his own, tangling them sometimes and pulling on them like they were fighting for being the strongest, but letting go of each other just to start over again.

    “Hey.” Brendon calls him but doesn’t look at him, his eyes still fixed in their hands moving together. “Are you staying?” He asks casually, maybe too much, maybe doing it on purpose. Ryan swallows and thinks about it, he thinks about getting off the bed, taking a shower and driving back home where his phone would probably remind him constantly he has unheard messages. And they will be from Spencer.

    Being here feels safe, as if no one could find him or touch him if he doesn’t want to. Spencer isn’t going to look for him here; nobody will do it. And Ryan needs not to be found right now; he needs for his mind to not come back to the conversation with his best friend constantly. So he just nods, with his gaze still on his thin fingers getting through Brendon’s, sighing.

    “Although I’m going to find my bedroom as a dog shelter tomorrow.” He says, laughing a little. Brendon smiles, getting more comfortable and closer to Ryan as he does, letting their skins touch in different places.

    “It’s okay if you want to go.” He says, even though his hand is still making patterns with his fingers on Ryan’s and one of his legs moves slowly to get some room between Ryan’s. Ryan swallows and shakes his head no.

    “I prefer not to…” He leaves the sentence unfinished, making a face and moving too so his body fits with Brendon’s. “I don’t want to be there right now. It’s… you know.” He finishes, shrugging and touching with his thumb from Brendon’s palm to the tip of one of his fingers, moving his hand then to push it flat against Brendon’s and see the size difference, his fingers standing above Brendon’s.

    Brendon makes a sound with his throat, an acceptance one, managing to let his head resting on Ryan’s shoulder before he realizes he’s made himself room between his arm and his body, leaving a small kiss on Ryan’s jaw line. Brendon moves his fingers, drumming them against Ryan’s, moving their hands together maybe to see the size difference too, sliding it just a little to tangle his fingers between Ryan’s and squeeze a bit. Ryan’s fingers close automatically in the same gesture, his thumb caressing over Brendon’s knuckles.

    “Thank you.” Ryan murmurs, letting his other hand rest slightly on Brendon’s back in a relaxed posture, looking at him. “For before. You’re the only one I felt I could…” He says, lowering his voice more, looking at Brendon’s direction but not exactly at him. “You know. I’ve had a lot of fights with Spencer, but not like this. I’m not even sure it can be named as a fight.”

    “It happens. It shouldn’t, but…” Brendon sighs a little, caressing with his fingers where they are resting on Ryan’s hand. “You’re not alone. Some things, well, might happen and you could be hurt and mad or just, just fucked.” He says, laughing soft through his nose, shaking his head in a quick movement. “But you’re not alone. I promise. You have me, for whatever you may need.”

    Ryan sighs and nods slowly, letting Brendon’s words sink in, fixing his eyes again on him. He keeps his gaze on Brendon for a few seconds before he leans in and kisses him short on the lips, stretching on the moment and the touch, drawing back with a wet sound that echoes in the quiet room. Brendon has his eyes closed when Ryan breaks the kiss and he doesn’t open them for a while, as he sighs and lets out the air between his half open lips.

    When he does, he opens his eyes slowly, and just to look down and shift a little, grabbing the quilt and covering them both, snuggling close to Ryan now that the warmth starts to surround them, looking for his hand once more to tangle their fingers together again. Ryan moves with him to get comfortable under the quilt, pulling on Brendon’s hand and leaving a kiss on his knuckles before he sighs and closes his eyes, leaning his head in to bury his face on Brendon’s hair, counting his heartbeats just to keep his mind busy with something.

 

*

 

    The next time Ryan sees Spencer, he does it directly at practice. He goes alone and right on time so he has minutes enough just to change clothes, put on his pads and gets into the rink when Bob tells them so, focusing exclusively in the game. He can notice Spencer looking at him here and there, even sometimes it looks like he’s trying to find the way to approach him and talk. Ryan has heard every voice message Spencer has left on his voicemail and, if what he wants is to keep saying Ryan overreacted and to stop being so dramatic, Ryan’s not interested. Bob seems to notice there’s something wrong between them, something that’s not difficult since they’re always glued to each other and now they don’t even talk. He doesn’t say anything, though. Bob usually lets them fix things their way, unless it affects the game in a serious way. Sometimes he just calls Elisa and asks her to help.

    When they finish practice, Ryan sees how Spencer comes directly to him, but some of the guys stop him and they end up going to talk to Bob. It’s not unusual, given the time of the season, that Spencer has to attend some meetings about different demands in regards to the team. Ryan doesn’t waste his time looking and keeps his way to the locker room, following his routine, taking off his clothes and going to the shower. Bob’s voice echoes a while later, calling the name of the next three that must go to check-up, and Ryan knows Spencer’s free now. He’s changing clothes when Ryan gets out of the shower, sitting in one of the benches and looking directly to the door Ryan has to come out. Their lockers are near each other, assigned alphabetically, and there’s no way Ryan can avoid him.

    “Are you going to keep avoiding me?” Spencer asks, taking his pads off without looking, his eyes fixed on Ryan.

    “Are you going to keep calling me overdramatic?” Asks Ryan back, putting the team clothes inside his locker, getting his casual clothes from his bag to start to get dressed without looking at his friend.

    “Ryan, come on…” He hears Spencer sighing, huffing a little. “You don’t answer to my texts, you don’t call me back. You stopped talking to me. Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic? Dude, we’ve never been so much time without contact. Never!” He says with an exasperated movement of hands. “You can’t react that way because of _this_.”

    “And how should I react?” Asks Ryan, closing his locker and sitting on the bench, starting to put on his underwear with the towel still around his waist. “I’m not having the time of my life not talking to you, Spencer. But I don’t know… Right now I don’t know how to do it, okay?”

    “Ryan, come on, don’t…” Spencer stops himself when some other teammates get out of the shower, talking and laughing. He’s not using a loud voice, but the topic is not the best to talk in the locker room. “Listen, what if we go to your house? We talk better there, okay?”

    Ryan opens his mouth ready to tell him no, but he closes it and bites his lip instead, putting on his jeans in a quick move and sitting back again when he buttons them up. This is Spencer, after all, and Ryan knows he can’t be mad at him forever, so maybe talking is not so bad idea, trying to make him understand or reach some agreement where they stop acting like strangers instead of like brothers, as it used to be.

    “I have to drive Brendon home,” he says, putting on his shirt and pushing back his hair then. “You can wait for me at home, I won’t take too long.”

    “Can’t he find another way to go home? I don’t know, I guess you don’t drive him here too, he can go home the same way he comes here, just for today,” says Spencer, looking at Ryan as if he couldn’t wait at all. “Come on, Ryan, we have to fix this.”

    “And we will. I said I won’t take long.” Ryan looks at him serious before getting back at his shoes, tying them up, ignoring the comments about Brendon and the driving. “You can go see Linda in the meantime, and I’ll text you when I’m near. But I already said it won’t take long.”

    Spencer looks at him in silence for a moment, moving his head resigned and looking away from Ryan a while later, keeping taking off his clothes while he murmurs something. When he gets up and takes the towel he had at his side, he throws it over his shoulder and looks at Ryan again, sighing.

    “You’re punishing me, right? That’s it,” he says, making a face. “‘If you want to talk to me you’ll have to wait for me to do everything that’s less important and then I’ll talk to you’, right? Okay. Whatever you want. But text me when you’re free.”

    “Who’s being overdramatic now?” Asks Ryan rolling his eyes. “I’m just asking you to wait a few minutes, God, Spencer. It’s not like I’d set an arrangement to talk to you in two weeks,” he says, standing up and putting the rest of the things in his bag, picking things up and zipping it up, hanging it over his shoulder. “I’ll text you when I’m fifteen minutes from home. I promise, okay?”

    “Okaaaay,” Spencer agrees, grunting a little and starting to walk to the shower, stopping near Ryan and taking the towel from his shoulder to lash Ryan’s butt with it, laughing. “Don’t take too long.”

    Ryan murmurs a ‘take that shower, you stinky ass’, rubbing with his hand the place Spencer hit with a little smile on his face. He adjusts the bag over his shoulder and gets out of the locker room with a sigh and the feeling that things with Spencer are maybe not that broken. Maybe they can come to a point where they both can forget what happened these days and start with a clean slate.

    The door of Brendon’s room is closed, and Ryan doesn’t know if it’s because he’s not finished or because the last guy closed it behind him. Anyway, Ryan texts him, asking him directly if he’s finished, leaning in one of the walls while he waits. Brendon says he’s almost finished but he can come in if he wants because there’s nobody there with him, so Ryan moves again to the door, this time opening it without knocking first, closing behind him. He leaves the bag on the floor and goes to sit on the stretcher while Brendon finishes, a habit hard to quit even if he doesn’t have to come to physiotherapy anymore.

    Brendon doesn’t take long. It seems like, according to him, he works faster when he has company, especially if said company talks to him, ‘and even more if that company is you’, Brendon adds, looking at Ryan over his glasses with a sly smile before typing again.

    “That’s because you’re thinking about the _after_ ,” says Ryan, smiling sideways and balancing his legs back and forth from the edge of the stretcher. “Something to do with the motivation. I’m sure Elisa can explain it to you.”

    “It’s possible,” Brendon nods, winking at him and laughing.

    He takes his skate under his arm and his bag over his shoulder when they finally get out, both talking about how Brendon assures he’s a dangerous person because he’s a physiotherapist, urging Ryan to taste his abilities with his hands. ‘I could kill a man with just a finger’ he says, bringing said finger to Ryan’s neck and pressing to tickle him. Ryan’s still laughing when they pass through the exit and they see Spencer still there. Ryan doesn’t know why he’s there, doesn’t know if he’s waiting for someone or if he’s waiting for him. It doesn’t seem like the latter, because he just moves his head to say hi and touches his wrist with his finger to tell him to hurry up.

    Ryan was going to make a joke about how Brendon could kill a man just with his tongue but, after getting out, it’s like the moment has already passed. And knowing Spencer’s there doesn’t help, as if he could hear him somehow still in the distance. He wouldn’t need much to read Ryan’s words. Spencer’s a smart guy and, above everything, he knows Ryan too much.

   “I’m gonna talk to Spencer,” he says to Brendon when they get in the car, while he gets out of the parking spot. Brendon looks at him and smiles with an understanding face.

    “Good, that’s good,” he says, reaching with his hand to squeeze Ryan’s over the gearshift, leaving it there just a second before taking it away. “I hope everything goes as good as possible.”

    Ryan looks at him for a moment to give him a warm smile, looking back at the road when he drives into it.

    “He wants to fix things and… I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “Maybe he won’t ever understand why I got mad in the first place, but, well. He’s Spencer, you know? Maybe I’ll just have to accept he’s thick like that,” he says, trying to joke about it, making a sad face but trying to replace it with a smile right away.

    “You don’t have to accept anything you don’t want to, okay?” Says Brendon, speaking carefully. “I mean, if it’s fine with you, whatever, then awesome. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. But don’t do anything just because it’s what you’re supposed to do. That… It’s not worth it, that’s for sure.”

    “Okay,” says Ryan after a few seconds in silence, thinking about Brendon’s words, understanding them, letting them sink in. “Okay,” he repeats, looking at him with a little smile.

    “Or you can decide not to listen to me, it’s not like I’m an expert on the subject,” Brendon adds, laughing and rubbing his neck. “Just… Actually I’m just telling you what I think I would’ve liked to hear when… when I was in your situation.”

    Ryan nods and uses his turn signal to go left, stopping on a red light and taking advantage of this to look at Brendon.

    “I like to know your opinion, your opinion on everything. What would you do and stuff,” he says, shrugging. “I like to keep it in mind.”

    Brendon smiles and looks away, although that doesn’t make Ryan ignore how he looks a little proud, his chest filling up and his lips pressing together not to open a bigger smile. Ryan looks at him biting his own smile until the light turns green and he keeps driving.

    He doesn’t talk again about Spencer or their future conversation the rest of the way. Instead of that, they talk about how the check-ups are in alphabetical order, how Ryan has still a few days before his turn comes because of his last name. They talk about hockey too, or Ryan talks about hockey, and he gets excited telling Brendon about the new strategies and the next games, talking about how many games they have to play out of the state and how many home, against who they have to play and which one are his favorite teams.

    Brendon listens attentive, or as much attentive as Brendon can be. He interrupts Ryan sometimes to tell him things that just come to his mind, cutting Ryan off, then apologizing and asking him to keep going. Ryan notices, though, that all of those interruptions are about hockey too, about something new Brendon learned, about the games he’s saw, the teams he likes more. It’s not usual seeing Brendon stay that long in the same topic, and it’s something Ryan knows he should appreciate.

    They’re still talking about hockey when they arrive to Brendon’s building and Ryan stops at his door, apologizing for taking control of the conversation like that and just talking about hockey. Brendon smiles huge, moving his hand to play it down, saying there’s been so many times when it was the other way around.

    “I’m glad we spent the way talking about the things you like, that way you clear your mind a little to…” He leaves the sentence unconcluded, moving his head to indicate what he means: the conversation with Spencer. Ryan smiles and sighs, looking away for a moment and chewing at his lip.

    “I don’t know what to expect, actually… Although, I don’t know, I’ve got the feeling that it can go well,” he says, shrugging and looking at Brendon with a big smile. “Anyway, be prepared for a late night visit, or a phone call. Just in case.”

    “I’ll be here,” nods Brendon, “if you want to call, to come, whatever. If it’s not too late, I can even go to your house if you need it.” He smiles, putting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and squeezing. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve got a good feeling.”

    Ryan nods too a couple of times before giving in to the need of leaning towards Brendon, holding him sweet by his chin and kissing him. Brendon kisses back immediately, smiling when they break it and pouting a little before he grabs his things, leaving his hand on the handle without opening the door yet.

    “Good luck,” he says, pulling at the handle and opening the door, letting the cold air of Chicago get in the car and leaning in once more to leave a chaste kiss on Ryan’s lips. When he leans back, his smile is bigger.

    “Thanks,” says Ryan, winking at him with a smile and returning his hands to the wheel when Brendon gets out of the car. Before he drives into the highway he picks up his phone to text Spencer, saying he’ll be there in half an hour.

    Spencer’s car is parked in front of his house, outside the fence, when Ryan gets there, so he’s probably inside. It’s not unusual for Spencer to wait for him in his house, they both have the keys to each other’s houses, and it’s normal for them to get in and have a beer if they have to wait for each other, watching TV or playing with the dogs. Ryan opens the gate and gets his car inside, parking and getting out of the car, finding Zeppelin right there.

    “What are you doing here?” He laughs, scratching the dog’s head, playing with him when he tries to climb Ryan. “Where’s Spencer?”

    When he gets in the house with the dog running behind him, he has a weird feeling in his stomach, anxious about the conversation with his friend. He takes off his shoes and let them aside, coming into the living room to find Spencer sitting in the couch with the rest of the dogs around him. Except for Rat, who, since she knows Brendon, she doesn’t want anything to do with anybody else.

    “Hey,” Ryan says, going to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and coming back to sit on the other couch, looking at Spencer while he opens the bottle and drinks.

    “What are you doing with water? Look what I brought,” says Spencer, reaching with his hand at the side of the sofa, taking a deep blue box with little stars all over it. “The Space Barley, as a peace offering. I know how much you like space shit,” he says, opening the box and taking two bottles of beer, sliding one through the center table to Ryan. “They’re still cold but, if I were you, I’ll start drinking now.”

    Ryan laughs and reaches to take the beer, leaving his water on the floor and opening the bottle to take a sip and check if it’s cold as Spencer says. It’s not as cold as Ryan likes, but he still can drink it and, judging how dry his throat is, he won’t take too long to finish it.

    “It’s been long since I drank one of these,” he says when he swallows, tasting it. He looks around, looking then at Spencer. “Where’s Rat? Do you know?” He asks, because he’s been outside almost the whole day and he’s a little obsessive when it comes to his dogs. He likes to know they’re all right.

    “That ball of fur? She’s been wandering around a while ago, trying to hump Zep when he was sleeping. Then, when he woke up and bared his teeth, she ran away to your room. She was eating a hoodie, by the way. Or fucking it, I’m not sure,” he says, sipping at his beer and sitting more confortable. “I tried to take it from her, but she growled at me.”

    Ryan makes a face and lets out a complaining moan, trying to think about what hoodie could it be that he let around and Rat had taken. He huffs resigned because, whichever it can be, it doesn’t matter anymore, it would be disintegrated or dishonored when Ryan finds it.

    “Well… It’s okay,” he says, letting himself fall back on the couch. “At least she’s alive… The hoodie is probably dead, though.”

    “Yeah, you must be realistic,” Spencer laughs, nodding and sipping at his beer. He lets his laugh die and the smile that remains on his face is strange, not fake but not natural either. He looks at Ryan then, as if he was waiting for him to talk but not waiting because that’s how Spencer is. Efficient. Impatient. Ryan knows what’s coming but he doesn’t know where it will end. “Listen, about the other day… It has to be a way to fix it. We’re not fighting over this, Ryan. It’s absurd. We’ve been through a lot together, this isn’t… This shouldn’t be what breaks us apart. What breaks us apart should be the St. Louis offering me a better contract and me leaving to destroy you guys next season.”

    “Like the Hounds are gonna let you go that easily…” says Ryan, laughing tiredly and sighing then, his gaze fixed on the blue label covered in stars around his bottle. “It’s not absurd. For me. What I mean is… I don’t want to fight, I don’t want this to separate us, but I need… I was just looking for support, ok? And what you said didn’t feel like it. I understand the risks and I know why you said what you said, but well. Maybe I expected that not to be the most important thing you had to say to me about it.”

    Spencer looks at him while he speaks, paying attention. It’s not new, but it’s not usual either, having Spencer paying so much attention to what Ryan has to say, no interruptions, no corrections, just attending passive. He’s still not talking after Ryan has finished, thinking. Ryan can always tell when Spencer’s thinking, it shows all over his face how his mind is working, and that’s what he looks like doing right now, more than the previous time, at least.

    “Let’s see,” he says when he speaks, leaving his beer on the table and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at Ryan. “First of all, I don’t think the matter is absurd. I was saying we fighting about it is. It’s absurd because it’s us, you’re my brother, these things shouldn’t happen between us,” he clears up, making a gesture for Ryan to understand. “I don’t… I support you, okay? I mean, I have nothing against it. And I don’t think I said anything for you to think otherwise, _but_ ,” he adds, raising a hand for Ryan not to stop him, “if I said anything that made you think like that, then I’d like you to explain it to me. And, I don’t know, maybe that way I can see why this happened.”

    “It’s not…” Ryan interrupts himself, breathing and thinking about how to explain it, letting the air out through his nose and looking at Spencer before speaking again, slower this time. “You said you accepted it, that you thought it was nothing wrong with it or something like that. You said that and that was fine but… That meant nothing because your support was under conditions, okay?” He tries to explain, sitting straight and sitting cross-legged, his fingers picking at the label of his beer until it comes off. “It was like: I support you, but don’t fall for a guy. It’s… you made it sound as if it were _wrong_. As if I should be ashamed of it.”

    “No. No, it’s not that, Ryan. It’s…” Spencer huffs, taking his beer again to drink. “Look, it’s not wrong. It’s not wrong _per se_. And I’m sure my reaction would have been different in other circumstances, but you have to agree with me that… Well, this is not the most convenient,” he says, shrugging. “It’s not _wrong_. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but you and I know how this world we live in is. Just… I don’t know, I was giving you an advice, some guidelines, you know? You know as much as I do that if you suddenly fell in love with a girl everything will be solved. You know it. Now, if it can’t be, well that’s it. If you fall for a guy…” Spencer moves his hands in a gesture that looks like impotence, or resignation, maybe. “Then that’s it, you fall in love with a guy, then fine, okay. I’m not going to condemn you, but you would be fucked. And if you want to make it public because you don’t want to hide it, then you’d be even more fucked. But me saying that doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.”

    Ryan sighs and stays in silence for a few seconds, looking at Spencer and his beer back and forth, drinking and sighing again. He thinks about Spencer’s words and reconsider them, and now he can see things from a different perspective. It’s just that he always knew what Spencer was trying to say, it just wasn’t what he needed to hear in that moment.

    “Okay,” he says, swallowing and looking at his friend. “It’s just that… I know all of that, Spencer. Do you think I don’t? Of course I know. But I didn’t need for you to tell me all that could go wrong and what to do to avoid it. I just needed my brother telling me I didn’t need to feel guilty about hiding from him all of these years, and that I didn’t need to do it anymore. That nothing would change between us because of it. Just that,” he explains, shrugging.

    Spencer stays in silence for a second, looking at the bottle in his hand, moving it in circles.

    “Okay. Okay. Maybe…” he says, pausing and shrugging before speaking again. “Maybe my reaction wasn’t the best. Maybe I could have done in some other way, more… properly.” He sighs, raising his look without moving his head too much. “But you know all of that, what you just said. You know that, don’t you? That all of that it’s true.”

    “I want to believe so, yeah,” Ryan says, laughing a little and looking at Spencer with doubt written all over his face. “But sometimes… sometimes you need to hear it, you know? Just to, dunno, be sure.”

    “Come on, Ryan!” Spencer frowns, shaking his head. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t…” He stops right there, huffing and snorting, looking at him faking exasperation. “Nothing will change between us, you’re my brother. You are, and you’ll always be. And, yeah, it bothered me knowing you hid it from me for so long, but I understand… I guess. But it’s over, we’ve talked about it and I know everything and I’m… happy you decided to trust me about it. And, what else? Do you want me to say that I love you? Is that what you want?” He asks, using a paternalistic voice and smirking like an asshole. Ryan looks at him serious, holding his smile and letting it open on his face slowly.

    “You could say it, yeah. It’s healthy to express emotions, Spencer,” he says, mocking him while he relaxes on his seat, feeling the ease filling up his body and knowing he can let go everything that happened and act normal again. “Elisa never told you?”

    “You think I don’t mean it? Come here,” he says, laughing, leaving his beer over the table and standing up quickly to sit near Ryan. “Come on. Here, close to each other, looking at each other’s eyes. More intimate,” he says while Ryan laughs, taking his beer from his hands to put it away. “Look at me, Ryan. Are you ready?” he asks, and he’s the one who doesn’t look ready, because he’s giggling like Ryan hasn’t seen him do in ages.

    “I hope you don’t do the same to Linda, because if you do, man, you have a problem,” says Ryan laughing, looking at Spencer and pressing his lips together to stop him from bursting. He looks at him waiting, because he wants to hear it, he wants to be able to remind this to Spencer the rest of his life.

    “Shut up, Linda has nothing to do with this. That’s different,” he says, holding Ryan’s hands together, squeezing them too hard. “Ryan.” He breathes deep, closing his eyes and trying to control his laugh. “You’re my best friend, my brother, and I love you. Okay? And I don’t care what you do with your life because it will always be like that, as different as things can get or as much you surprise me in the future. If I’m gonna be able to stand how much of an asshole you will be after this, I think I can stand anything.”

    “Even if I like sucking cock?” Asks Ryan, holding his laugh, doing it on purpose just to see Spencer’s face. Spencer squints immediately, as if the image had gone straight to his brain, making a face and looking at Ryan after that, sighing resigned.

    “Well, to tell the truth… you always had a cocksucker face to me, you know?” He answers, laughing then. Ryan can’t control his laugh either, and he burst into it, bringing a hand to his belly and falling back on the couch, shaking his head and rubbing his face while he tries to compose himself.

    “You’re such an asshole,” he says, the laugh dying a bit in his throat, looking at Spencer amused but also thankful. “That means I can tell you what I do with guys as well as girls? Or is that too much?” He laughs again, sighing and reaching for his beer again. “It’s… Thanks, you idiot.”

    Spencer shakes his head no, taking his own beer and falling back on the couch and finishing it.

    “In fact, you can solve something I always wondered,” he says, leaving the empty bottle and looking at Ryan with an eyebrow raised. “Is it true that dudes suck it better than chicks?”

    Ryan raises his eyebrows, looking at him amused as he finishes his beer too, smiling big and staying in silence for a few seconds to add intrigue to the conversation.

    “You sure you want me to answer that?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What if you find out you’re missing the chance to get much more awesome blowjobs?” He laughs.

    “I’m in love, Ryan. No one can get me better blowjobs,” says Spencer completely sure of himself. “Join sex and love. Such a discovery. Someday you will agree with me. So yeah, answer, come on.”

    “Oh, see? You solved one of my wonders there,” Ryan laughs, leaving Aunt Em a spot beside him when she climbs up the sofa and rest her head on his thigh. “Quid pro quo, I guess. It’s totally true. Some girls can get really close, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of owning a cock too and knowing what you like and how it feels or some shit. Whatever it is, it is.” He laughs again.

    “Really? Shit…” Spencer murmurs, and he looks a little disappointed with the answer. He looks at his empty bottle, looking then where the rest of the beer should be warm by now. “Hey, gonna put them in the fridge and I’ll bring some cold, okay?” He says already standing up. Ryan just nods. “I can stay here for a while, right? Or do you have a date with the…” Spencer’s face changes as he says the sentence, going slower as if he was running out of batteries, until he completely stops. He looks at Ryan and frowns then, scanning his face. “Ryan? You’re not fucking the physio, right?”

    “No…!” Ryan answers, knowing before he does that Spencer’s not going to buy it because he was never a good liar, even worse when it comes to Spencer’s direct and inquisitive questions. Also, his innocent face is still awful no matter how many times he has rehearsed it. “Not right now,” he adds to turn his lie into a truth. Or into an obvious thing, lowering his head and paying all of his attention to Aunt Em, avoiding Spencer’s look.

    “Son of a bitch!” Spencer grabs the nearest cushion and hitting Ryan’s head with it, making his hair fly. “You’re fucking the physio! How didn’t I see it before? Fuck, it’s so obvious!” He says with his eyes wide open, as if he couldn’t believe he’d missed it. Ryan ducks and covers his head with a laugh, Aunt Em standing up and barking at Spencer to defend him.

    “It’s not obvious!” Ryan defends himself, laughing when Spencer feints to hit him again, ducking again and using the dog as a barrier.

    “It’s not obvious??? All of those ‘I drive him home because insert cheap excuse here’” Spencer accuses him, trying to find the way to keep hitting Ryan with the cushion. “And to make it worse, it’s the physio. Where did you came from, dude? A cheap porno? You’re so easy, motherfucker.” He says, hugging the cushion and looking at Ryan shocked. “Tell me you didn’t fuck him in his office. Tell me, please, you haven’t disgrace a public place.”

    Ryan tries to control his laugh, and he knows he should get up the couch and run away from Spencer’s attack while he can, but the only thing he can do is to try and calm the dog and make her stop barking while he thinks about what to tell Spencer. To tell the truth, it only happened once, and Spencer’s going to be so much happy if he doesn’t find out. Ryan always wants Spencer to be happy. He gets Aunt Em to stop barking and get down the couch to avoid getting hit by Spencer as a collateral damage. He raises his look to his friend, holding a smile.

    “Nobody told you not to ask question you don’t want to know the answer to?” He says, covering his head with his arms just in case. Spencer just lets out a hopeless groan, bringing a hand to his face and shaking his head.

    “I’m gonna get the beers,” he says, throwing the cushion at Ryan’s head for the last time before he goes to the kitchen. “And you’d better clean up after! I don’t want to go get a massage and get out of there pregnant with your child,” he shouts from the kitchen, making Ryan bend laughing.

    “Relax, you won’t be that lucky,” says Ryan, lying on the couch when he stops laughing, coughing and sighing. “Besides, it was just once.”

    Spencer takes a little to come back, and when he does he brings two beers and a huge Cheetos bag that he probably got from searching around Ryan’s cabinets as always.

    “The physio, dude. How can you fuck him? It makes me tired just looking at him,” he says, giving Ryan a bottle and sitting near him, opening the Cheetos bag. “If he puts so much energy in everything, I bet you’ve lost inches of thickness on your cock because of the friction.”

    Ryan smiles huge and wiggles his eyebrows while he gets his hand inside the bag to bring a handful of Cheetos to his mouth, chewing like a brute. It’s weird, being able to talk about things like this with Spencer like it’s normal after years of silence about his affairs with men. It’s weird, but it feels good to do it, liberating.

    “Who says I’m the one who tops?” Ryan asks with a smile, watching Spencer choke on his beer, coughing and hitting his chest with his fist, looking at him with huge eyes. Ryan bursts out laughing again, coughing when he chokes on the Cheetos he was eating, reaching for his beer to drink, still laughing. “Your face, oh my God.”

    “Get bent,” he says, and he automatically makes that face again, as if the images went straight to his brain. He twists his mouth, drinking again and speaking when he’s finished. “Whatever, if you don’t fuck him, at least he would jerk you off. And the way that guy moves, it sure feels like you pushed your dick in an electric sharpener,” he says, making the movement with his own hand.

    Ryan laughs again, finding the situation amusing, shaking his head and sitting straight to recover his composure, trying to stop laughing so he can talk without choking on Cheetos.

    “It’s charming you worrying so much about me, Spencer. So you can stop worrying, I’ll tell you Brendon has the perfect energy for any of the options you can imagine,” he says, smiling big and innocent, putting some Cheetos in his mouth.

    “I feel so much better now, thanks,” says Spencer ironically, taking the bag from Ryan’s hands and leaving it at his side, eating Cheetos while he searches around for the remote, turning on the TV. He channel-surfs a bit and stops when there are some commercials, speaking again without looking at Ryan, watching at the girl talk about how good is that toothpaste. “So… It’s him, isn’t it? The one you’ve been seeing. More than once, I mean.”

    Ryan can feel the conversation turning more serious now and he straightens up, as if he needed to prepare for this. He clears his throat and gets his beer to drink, fixing his eyes on the screen as well.

    “Yeah. Yes, he’s… It’s him,” he says, tapping his fingers on the glass of the bottle he’s holding. Spencer looks at him for a second, changing channels again and grabbing more Cheetos, drinking before he leaves the remote.

    “He’s the first one, right? I mean, the first person you’ve… You know, not just one night,” asks Spencer, looking at Ryan when he finishes talking.

    Ryan nods slowly, a bit uncomfortable not because it’s Spencer whom he’s talking to, but because this conversation is heading to somewhere he’s not really used to. He has no idea where his friend wants to go with it, but talking about his feelings for Brendon is not going to be easy, if that’s what Spencer wants to know. Spencer doesn’t say a thing for a moment, and it seems like he goes back to the TV but, in the last time, he speaks again.

    “And how is it? You know, the new experience,” he asks, snorting a laugh, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. Ryan breathes and lets the air out in a short laugh, thinking, fixing his eyes on the bottle but not really looking at it.

    “It’s… weird,” he says, laughing again, biting his lips while he thinks about Brendon after sex, their conversations, they both taking a shower. To do all of that all over again the next day.The complicity, not needing to say how or where. “You know. Not thinking about running away before things get tense. But it’s, I don’t know, knowing more and more someone’s body and to be known. It’s good. It’s. It’s really good, actually. To do so many different things,” he says, shrugging, drinking his beer. “And the familiarity, you know? The… The intimacy. It’s like comforting, somehow,” he finishes, not sure if he keeps talking about sex anymore.

    Spencer didn’t stop looking at him the whole time, not making a face, a comment, agreeing or making a joke. He just looks at him and he keeps looking a bit more after, in that way that makes Ryan feel like he’s trying to read beyond his words. He nods slowly then, licking his lips and looking back at the TV, and he keeps nodding when a weird smile opens on his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

    “What?” Ryan asks when he sees that smile, reaching for some Cheetos and swallowing harder than normal to try and make the weight on his chest disappear.

    “Nothing, nothing…” Spencer laughs, looking at the TV and back at Ryan quickly, leaving a music channel on. He leaves the remote away and this time he looks at Ryan’s face, laughing and shaking his head. “Nothing, just that, maybe being the first time and stuff, you didn’t notice, but you have a crush. You’re hooked. Just so you know.”

    “I’m not hooked,” Ryan denies quickly, shaking his head and making it sound more believable than he thought he could. Okay, he could admit what he felt for Brendon was farther than just sex. He likes him, okay. But having a crush on him, being hooked was an exaggeration. It had to be. “I’m not,” he repeats, to convince himself at the same time as Spencer.

    “Would you two be friends if you weren’t fucking?” Asks Spencer, as if the answer to that question were all he needs to prove what he said. Ryan opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, not really thinking about the answer, still confused about the question.

    “Of course,” he says, blinking. “He’s a great guy. He’s funny. And interesting. And pretty smart, actually. He’s…” He stops there, thinking that maybe he’s not really contributing to his defense. Spencer looks at him with a raised eyebrow, twisting his mouth.

    “You like him. As a person, friend, whatever,” says Spencer, moving a hand so Ryan doesn’t interrupt him. “You like him enough to say you’d be friends if you two didn’t have sex. But you have sex, so sleeping with him should be good enough to decide it not to be a one-time thing, stay as friends and look for the next one. So you don’t mind the possibility of fucking up your friendship with him if you keep on fucking and things get weird when you have to stop. Why? Because you didn’t think about it. Why you didn’t think about it? Because you’re hooked,” he finishes; totally satisfied with the list of words he just pushed down Ryan’s throat.

    Ryan opens his mouth to deny it again, but this time he has to close it because he doesn’t know what to say. He frowns and swallows, looking at Spencer and chewing at his lip, nervous.

    “I admit I like how he is. I like… I like spending time with him,” he says, adding quickly. “But I’m not hooked. That’s more like… No. No, I’m not hooked.”

    “Yeah, your reasoning is so eloquent. You convinced me,” mocks him Spencer, huffing and looking at him. “Are you gonna stop? If you’re not hooked, you’ll stop, right? When you get bored.”

    The thing with Brendon is that Ryan can almost say for sure that he’s not going to get bored. He could say this to Spencer, that he won’t stop because he won’t get bored, because it’s impossible to get bored with Brendon, he always has something new to offer, something new to talk about, something to surprise you. Brendon is, possibly, the less predictable person Ryan has ever known in his life, and that makes it impossible for him to get bored with Brendon even if the both of them are sitting alone in silence. Brendon is not even boring to watch.

    He can’t say this, though. He can’t because, as he thinks about it, he notices how telling this would only make Spencer think he’s right. And he’d never thought about it, not even when he talked about it with Brendon, but maybe he should start thinking about agreeing with Spencer. After all, he’s never felt something like this for anybody before. Maybe he’s hooked on Brendon and he doesn’t even know, maybe he’s not that far for being something more. To…

    He swallows hard and brings the beer to his lips, drinking big gulps, looking at his hands, the TV, the bottle, Spencer again. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s not something he’s thought about, not after talking about it with Brendon and deciding to keep doing what they were doing.

    “It’s okay, you know? If you decide you don’t wanna stop…” Says Spencer, getting a handful of Cheetos, throwing them in his mouth and chewing, sighing when he swallows. “But if you want to stop, you should think about how you’re gonna do it when you do it. Because you’re hooked, and from there on it’s only gonna get worse,” he explains, bringing a hand to his chest. “I know about these things, about relationships, serious things. And I’m not saying you’re going to fall for him or…” He moves his hand to explain what he’s saying. “It’s better to stop and think about what you want, put your ideas in order and act in consequence before it’s too late.”

    “Spencer,” Ryan laughs to ease the pressure on his chest, clearing his throat and playing it down with his hand. “It’s… It’s just sex. Well, maybe not _just, exclusively_ sex, we’re friends too. But it’s not going to go farther. We both know. We’ve talked about it.”

    “Okay, whatever you say,” concedes Spencer, shrugging. “I just hope that’s true at least for him. That way at least one of you won’t get fucked out of this.”

    “Come on, man, you think I’m gonna fall in love?” Ryan laughs short. “It’s like you don’t know me,” he jokes, but he feels the way his stomach turns and his throat closes up, his mind kindly reminding him how Brendon makes him feel sometimes when they’re together, as if it were trying to tell him something.

    “Actually I said I _don’t_ think you’re gonna fall for him,” Spencer laughs, making a face. “It’s curious you heard just that, don’t you think?”

    “You’re exaggerating,” says Ryan rolling his eyes and trying to pretend this conversation is not making his palms sweat and the food gather on top of his stomach. He looks at the clock and changes the subject. “Hey, gimme the remote, I think they’re airing a female Canadian league match.”

    Spencer looks at him for a moment, snorting and shaking his head before getting the remote and passing it to Ryan, taking his beer and drinking without saying a word. They don’t talk about it again the whole time Spencer stays there, but Ryan doesn’t seem to get away from the heavy weight on his chest and the knot in his stomach.

 

 

 


	8. Check To The Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know you don't really care about this, but Spain just reelected the ultra conservative party to keep fucking up our country, the EU is already fucked up, and I'm sad/tired/angry, so here's the new chapter because fuck it, why not.

   

 

   8.

 

    Things with Spencer go back to normal as soon as they spend that day together, as nothing happened. It’s a great relief, after thinking something between them had broken and they couldn’t be as they were after what happened. But everything’s as it’s supposed to be, and it looks like, on the rink, they’re even better, like Ryan and Spencer had achieve another level of complicity now that they fixed things.

    The next match is against the San Jose Sharks and the final minutes come while they’re still on a tie. It’s hard to win, but it feels awesome when they do it, especially because they’re the home team and the cheers, applauses and claims are like an adrenalin shot straight to their veins. With this victory they’re closer to the last section of the regular season, with five points of advantage from the following team, an advantage that doesn’t let them lower their guards but allows them to breath at least for a couple of weeks.

    They’re still the first of division and conference, but the Kings are strong and St. Louis and Dallas haven’t lost a game in the last five they’ve played. If things stay like this, Ryan’s afraid the classification for the playoffs it’s not going to be a hundred percent sure until the last games and all of the teams are going to have to play their best.

    In practice things are coming out great. The connection in the team makes it work better, they use Bob and Spencer’s strategies combined, dedicating each session to work an specific aspect and the techniques needed to improve their weak spots, reinforcing their strong points. Ryan thinks it’s the best he’s seen the team work since the season started, including last season too, and that means better results but also a better atmosphere between them all.

    The week they play against the San Jose team, they do it on Thursday for some calendar problems, so Bob cancels Friday practice and tells them to rest, not before warning them not to be overconfident because they would make up for it by lengthen the next week practice time. Anyway, Ryan has to go to the stadium that day because it was his time for the check up with the medical team, so he has to be there on Friday afternoon. He doesn’t mind, anyway, going to see the physio gets him in a good mood lately. Brendon always manages to cheer him up.

    “Isn’t it curious? Your file is the most completed I’ve got. Why would that be?” Brendon jokes, finishing to record the information from the last check-up and searching in one of the drawers on the desk, taking off two post-it notes on the edge and crumpling them, taking a new one a writing something before sticking it in the same place the other ones were. “This is for you,” he says, pulling out some papers sheets joined with a clip, giving them to Ryan. “Those are the common exercises pre-workout and pre-game. In a few days I’ll have the specific ones, but I’m not supposed to give them to you until everybody’s check-up is over…” He says, twisting his lips and sighing dramatically, staring off into space. “Of course, if you had some way to compensate me, maybe I could make an honest mistake and give them to you before the date…”

    Ryan makes a curious sound with his throat, finishing to get his clothes on place while he approach Brendon’s desk, sitting on the chair in front of him and smiling while he plays with the paper balls Brendon made with the post-it notes.

    “I don’t know… some way to compensate you.” He says, pensive. “Maybe I can think of something.”

    “You have time to think about it.” Brendon smiles, winking at him and moving on his seat to open the filing cabinet. “Oh, do you want your X-ray? It’s everything okay and I’ve got the copies. Just in case you want to do some body painting of your skeleton, or if you need to see an eclipse.” Brendon jokes. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, throwing one of the balls of paper at Brendon.

    “It’s okay. I’ll probably lose them anyway.” Ryan says, throwing the other paper ball at Brendon too, smiling and lowering his eyes to look for the first one he threw.

    “Eh! Show some respect.” Brendon complains, laughing and pulling up a new post-it note just to make a ball with it and throwing it at Ryan, making him laugh. “I’m an authority in this room.”

    “Pay attention to me, authority.” Ryan says, like a kid complaining for the little attention he’s getting. “There are a lot of things in this room to look instead of me. Can we go now?”

    Brendon bursts a laugh, deciding to ignore him while he keeps organizing his desk, wanting Ryan to notice he’s not paying attention to him at all, humming while he clears the table. Ryan looks around for the paper ball Brendon threw at him to throw it back, trying to hit him so hard he ends up failing, huffing. He leans forward and places his arms on the desk, resting his head on his hands, looking at Brendon with puppy eyes.

    “Brendooon.” Ryan calls him, wrinkling his nose impatient while he sees Brendon move. This one looks at him, laughing a little before grabbing Ryan’s face with his hands and taking advantage of how his desk is now cleared to get on top of it, kissing Ryan while he keeps laughing, moving to get to the other side, climbing on top of Ryan and straddling him on the chair, biting his lips before breaking the kiss apart.

    “You don’t let me work. You distract me. I’m going to fill a complain report.” He says, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s neck and giving him a side smile. “You’re going to have to compensate that too. You’re building up debts, Ross.”

    “You can finish any other day,” says Ryan with a smile, satisfied with himself, holding Brendon tight around his waist and leaning in to give him a short kiss. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll manage to compensate everything?”

    “Hmm…” Brendon wrinkles his nose, bringing his finger up his lips and thinking. “Everything?” He asks, rolling his hips a little against Ryan. “I’m going to make you work hard for it, you know it, right?”

    Ryan’s smile sharpens on the edges before he places his mouth on Brendon’s jaw, biting softly there and making a way of kisses to his ear, then going to his cheek.

    “Don’t worry. I have a physio exclusively for me to help me get as good as new after any overstrain,” he says, leaving a kiss on his cheek before leaning back to look at him. Brendon laughs, licking his lips and making a face, shrugging.

    “If you say so… We can see what you can do,” he whispers getting close to Ryan’s ear, leaving a soft kiss under it. Ryan laughs and moves his hands down to Brendon’s butt, giving him a squeeze.

    “You were saying we’re leaving?” He asks, slapping his ass and moving his face to kiss him short again, licking his lips when he leans back.

    “We’re late already,” Brendon answers, jumping up from him and gathering his things, getting his skate from behind the desk and throwing the Stadium keys at Ryan.

    They’re lucky they get out of the room apart from each other, just because Brendon decides to skate and make Ryan play tag with him, so they don’t get caught when they see Peterson, one of the players who had his check-up today too, still there in the stadium. They just say hi and make some small talk before saying goodbye and go their way to the parking lot.

    Ryan does not pay much attention to the road during the way, and he’s lucky he knows it by heart and can go on automatic, because if it weren’t like that they would probably end up in Alaska trying to get home. He’s more interested in Brendon beside him, the heat of his thigh where Ryan has placed his hand the whole trip, how eager he is to have him since he set a foot in his office. To make it worse, the check-up didn’t help at all, and Brendon telling him casually all the things he wants him to do to him just makes it worse. Luckily, or thank God, he doesn’t cause an accident or anything like that, and the minutes it takes to get home seem like hours just because of how his skin feels tight and his clothes bother him.

    Brendon seems to be in the mood to play with him, or maybe he was really serious about making Ryan work for it, because he gets the skate again the moment he gets out of the car, laughing when he uses it to go way ahead of Ryan to get in the house. His plan backfires, though, because it’s him who the dogs tackled down, getting all of them on top of him, the skate rolling alone to the front when Brendon falls on his ass.

    “Help! No, nooo!” He shouts while the dogs lick his face and their tails lash him with all of the enthusiastic wiggling. Ryan can’t help but laugh out loud when he sees that Aunt Em gets on top of Brendon right away, and Zeppelin head-butts him to make him get up. Rat comes out running, with the hoodie she made her lover and she never leaves in her mouth. “Oh, God, is that…? Noooo, my hoodieeee,” whines Brendon, and Rat seems to understand Brendon’s thanking her for the gift, because she leaves the hoodie, all bitten and slobbered, near Brendon’s head and starts lo bark, wiggling her tail.

    “Oh! Is that yours?” Ryan asks, standing near him and watching him with his arms closed and an amused face. Truth be told, he never bothered to check what hoodie was it the one Rat was so in love with, among other things, because every time he tried to get close to it, Rat growled at him. “That explains why she’s so in love with it. She doesn’t let anyone touch it. Since you came into her life, she doesn’t want anyone else. She just wanders around the house waiting for you to come back,” says Ryan dramatically, holding a laugh.

    “Are you sure you’re talking about Rat?” Brendon jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing then, trying to get up while he wipes his face of dog slobber with the hem of his sleeve. Ryan’s tempted to make the dogs go back to him again, but he refrains in the last moment and pushes them away a little, helping Brendon get up with a laugh.

    “Sometimes she cries with that hoodie in her mouth while she gives me a dirty look, as if it were my fault that you’re not here,” he says, shaking dog hair off from Brendon and saying hi to the dogs when now they come to say hi to him, being the second choice now that Brendon’s there. “Oh, did you remember I exist, dogs? Let’s see who feeds you later, uh? Shame on you. I bring home a pretty face and you forget about me,” he says, lowering down to kiss Zeppelin’s head and scratch Hilda behind her ear.

    Brendon looks at Ryan greeting the dogs, that don’t stop running around like crazy, jumping and barking until they feel they had enough from Ryan and start running towards the place Ryan stores the food, barking louder and scratching the door of the cabinet where the food is.

    “I think they’re hungry,” says Brendon, getting closer to Ryan’s back and resting his chin on Ryan’s shoulder, putting his arms around his waist. “Why don’t you feed them… and then you come for me? I’ll wait for you in your room.”

    “Are you hungry too?” Asks Ryan, turning his head to look at Brendon, so close he can’t really see him whole. He lowers his voice when he keeps talking, as if someone could hear them. “Or are you gonna be my dinner?”

    “You can bite, if you want to,” Brendon whispers, dragging his nose along Ryan’s neck, lowering the hand on his waist to graze between Ryan’s legs, “but it’s me who’s gonna eat you out,” he adds, biting Ryan’s neck softly before getting away, walking his way up the room.

    Ryan watches him go with his lips between his teeth and his jeans tighter than they were a minute ago, laughing low and shaking his head when he watches him disappear up the stairs, sighing. He calls the dogs and goes to take their food and water too, leaving the four of them focused on their food before making his way up the stairs. While he climbs the steps three at a time, he pulls at his shirt to take it off, saving precious time he can use for other things the moment he crosses the door that leads to his room and to Brendon.

 

*

 

    The next morning Ryan wakes up with an incessant buzz and an ABBA song he knows there’s not in any of his music devices. Brendon’s almost all the way spread over him, as if there was no difference between Ryan and the bed, as if the both of them were the same surface, smooth and confortable. At least for Brendon that’s what it seems.

    The annoying voices echo in the whole room, singing about being a dancing queen or something like that, and Ryan hears Brendon grunt just when he was about to do it himself, raising his head from where it’s buried on Ryan’s neck, looking at him with eyes half closed and a stupid smile, his hair sticking out everywhere, the marks of the sheets on his cheek.

    “Morning,” Brendon mumbles, licking his lips and rubbing one of his eyes with his fist. “You didn’t play ABBA, right? Because then I think Cassie’s calling.”

    “How would I play it? You’ve got me trapped against the mattress,” he mutters with a hoard sleepy voice, not sounding as a complaint because it isn’t one.

    “You liked it when it was you who had me trapped against the mattress last night,” Brendon replies, opening a playful smirk that doesn’t come out all the way because he’s still half asleep, crawling over Ryan’s body to get his phone that’s inside his jeans’ pocket, on the floor, the friction of their skin remembering Ryan how they’re naked under the sheets. Brendon gets the phone and answers it while half of his body is still hanging over the edge of the bed. “Cassie?” He asks, holding himself on Ryan to get back to the bed, freeing him from his weight but snuggling at his side with the phone on his ear.

    Ryan closes his eyes again to get back to sleep if he can, putting an arm around Brendon and getting closer to him until he can press his nose to Brendon’s skin anywhere he reaches, sighing and breathing slow and deep, feeling easy to fall asleep again. He can hear Brendon talking with Cassie on the background, almost like an off-screen voice far, far away. Brendon using his free hand to start caressing him slow and soft doesn’t help at all keeping Ryan conscious.

    He catches some of the conversation, Brendon telling Cassie he’s not home although he doesn’t say where he is, hearing him laugh nervous because sure Cassie insinuated something, telling her then that they will talk later and that, yes, he didn’t forget, he will be there. When Brendon hangs up, he leaves the phone some place between the sheets and snuggles back with Ryan, pushing his nose between his hair and kissing there.

    “Are you awake?” He asks with a soft voice, enough not to wake him up if he weren’t. Ryan makes a noise with his throat, the best he can do right now, not feeling strong enough to make it last too long. Brendon laughs soft and raises a hand to caress his head. “Cassie’s back home. From the hospital,” he says with a smile on his voice and, when Ryan just grunts again as an answer, he moves a little, kissing his head one last time before starting to stand up, untangling from Ryan and getting out of the bed.

    Ryan’s grunt is longer and louder this time, when he reaches with his arm to follow Brendon, huffing when he can’t catch him and burying his face in the pillow Brendon used before deciding Ryan was a better surface to sleep on. He wants to raise his head and ask Brendon where is he going, but the truth is his body feels so heavy he just can stay there, breathing Brendon’s scent from the pillow and grumbling because he’s not there with him anymore.

    He can hear the shower on the background a while later, Brendon’s hums echoing in the bathroom because he always wake up in a good mood, but today he seems specially happy. He doesn’t take too long to get out, and Ryan hears him open the zipper of his bag, where he keeps his casual clothes that he didn’t get to wear yesterday because Ryan tore his uniform apart and left him naked on the bed. When the mattress sinks under Brendon’s weight again is just for a second, and some drops of water fall from his wet hair against Ryan’s forehead when Brendon leans down to kiss his lips softly.

    “Gotta go now if I want to be on time,” he says in a low voice, laughing a little then. “I guess you don’t know if there are any baby stores around here, right?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for Ryan to answer, just caresses his hair for a second before getting out of the bed. “Keep sleeping. I’ll try not to make too much noise when I get out.”

    Ryan makes another noise with his throat to show his agreement, although he hasn’t caught much about what Brendon just said. Something about time and making noise and babies. He finally gather all of his strength to stand up a little on the bed, holding his weigh on his forearms and looking at Brendon, already at the door, leaving one of his eyes closed and speaking with a hoarse voice.

    “Are you gonna take too long?” He asks, assuming Brendon’s going to come back anytime in the morning. Actually, he’s not that much in touch with his brain right now, having in mind he’s still half asleep.

    “Take too long?” Brendon asks, amused, looking at him almost tenderly while he rests his weight on the frame of the door. “Ryan. Cassie’s home with the baby. Jon prepared everything to celebrate the birth with a brunch today. I couldn’t buy a gift because of all of my exams and the team check-ups, so I have to do it before going today,” he explains with a soft voice, laughing again. “So, yeah, I think I’ll take too long.”

    “Oh,” says Ryan, slow, as if saying that monosyllable was harder than it really is. He opens the eye he left closed and blinks a couple of times with his brow furrowed, moving on the bed with a sigh until he’s sitting on the mattress, the quilt around his hips and his naked chest exposed. “I thought you were coming back,” he clears up, rubbing an eye and yawning then. “What time is it?”

    “It’s not late, Cassie was just leaving the hospital when she called, it was something past seven then,” he answers, making a resignation face. “But I have to leave already, if I want to be on time. I have to find the proper gift and then take the L. I’m going to take long to get to Cassie’s home.”

    “Ah.” Ryan processes the information slower than usual, looking at Brendon as if the code to decipher his words were somewhere on his face. He stays there enraptured for a moment before noticing his brain ordering him to talk. “Do you want me to drive you? You can buy the gift around here and I’ll drive you later,” he offers, stretching with a grunt, rubbing his face to wake up a little more. Brendon raises his eyebrows, looking at him and thinking about it, making a move with his head with a little nod.

    “If you drive me, there’s no need to hurry that much…” He says, leaning more on the doorframe, opening a little smile. “You could come with me, actually. You’re Cassie’s friend too, right?”

   Ryan makes a sound that could mean a ‘yes’, a ‘no’, an ‘I’m not sure’. He shrugs and reaches with his hand, making a gesture towards Brendon to make him come closer, nodding when he speaks again.

    “I’ll drive you. I’ll go with you. Whatever,” he says, smiling when he sees Brendon walking towards the bed with a huge smile. “How much time do we save that way?” He asks, moving his eyebrows suggestively but with no actual purpose, laughing. Brendon makes a noise with his throat, thinking, letting himself fall on top of the bed, taking his shoes off with his feet and getting comfortable beside Ryan.

    “Maybe two hours. Even more if you tell me where to find a baby store and help me choose the present,” Brendon answers, looking at Ryan and laughing softly, letting his head fall on the pillow and getting closer to whisper at his ear. “Do you want to sleep a bit more? I’ll take care of the dogs and breakfast.”

    “Humm, no,” Ryan answers, putting one of his legs around Brendon’s body, snuggling with him with a smile. “But we’re gonna stay here for a little while. Don’t worry about the dogs, they will come here when they see it’s their walking time and I’m not up yet.” He says, kissing Brendon’s cheek. “I have to take a shower, anyway, so I won’t take long to get up the bed.”

    “You mean if I allow you to,” Brendon corrects him, moving while he grabs the sheets, getting on top of Ryan and circling him with his arms, covering both of them with the sheets while he laughs evilly.

    They wrestle a little, Brendon insisting on playing WWE with him, then starting to tickle Ryan when he gets he can’t win wrestling. He rolls between the sheets and laughs out loud when Ryan fights back, asking for a time-out when it’s hard to breathe for all the laughing. They stay in bed until Ryan can hear the dogs’ steps climbing the stairs, and he gets up in a fast movement before the four of them throw themselves on top of the bed, laughing because Brendon couldn’t escape in time.

    A shower, a walk with the dogs and a breakfast his dietitian better doesn’t know about after, Ryan’s sitting on the couch trying no to succumb to Brendon’s charms and go with him to buy the present. Actually, Ryan wanted to wait for Brendon at home, but it’s getting hard to stay in place when Brendon looks at him with those huge puppy eyes and pouting like a spoiled child. Maybe Ryan indulges him too much.

    “But I can get lost if I go alone, and I don’t even know where this department store is,” he says, making an innocent face. “Also, its own name says it. _Department_ store, Ryan, I’m never going to find the way out of all of those departments. Not to mention how dangerous could it be for me to get out there without protection in a neighborhood like this…”

    “You live in Washington Park,” points out Ryan with a raised eyebrow, trying to hold back his laugh. “I hate shopping. Except if I’m shopping for sneakers. Or clothes. Oh, or hockey stuff.” He looks at Brendon and wrinkles his nose when he sees him watching him with pleading eyes, sighing and rolling his own. “You’re the worst.”

    “I’m not the worst,” Brendon answers quickly, pouting offended, “I’m realistic. Haven’t you heard the worst criminals wear suits? Do you know how many guys in suits I’ve seen every time I come here? It’s frightening. Also…” he opens a big smile, a planned one, “we could always go look some hockey stuff, or sneakers, or whatever you want.”

    “You’re not playing fair, Urie,” Ryan warns, trying to resist a little bit more even if he knows this is a lost case and he’s already given up. Brendon laughs, looking at Ryan with a raised eyebrow.

    “You sure? If I wanted to play dirty I would be asking you to come with me while I blow you, your cock in my mouth and everything.” He says, laughing. “However, I refuse to use sex as a bargaining ship. That always comes out wrong and then I can’t blow you anytime I want to. So, we’re leaving?”

    “Maybe you should play dirty,” says Ryan with a smile, his whole face lightening up with the idea, just kidding. He’s already getting up from the couch anyway, rolling his eyes again and sighing defeated while he gets closer to Brendon and crosses his arms when he’s in front of him.

    “Tell me at least you’re not one of those who take hours looking for the perfect gift…” he pleads, and now it’s his turn to make a puppy face.

    “I’m one of those who take hours looking for a gift that he can afford,” Brendon answers, smiling and leaning in for a second, tiptoeing to kiss Ryan’s lips. “Come on, I’ll try not to take too long. And when we get back, I promise I’ll play as dirty as you want.”

    “Humm.” Ryan makes an agreement face. “Seems fair,” he smiles, grabbing the car keys and making a gesture to Brendon to get out of the house.

    The commercial area is not far at all, but it’s enough for Brendon to spend all the way there talking about how excited he is to see the baby girl, how he hopes to find a good gift, something she can always fondly remember. He tells Ryan how he still has his favorite stuffed toy from when he was little, he keeps it in the closed because there’s not a proper place in his actual house to put it, but he wants to keep it in an honorary place when he has his own home.

    It seems it’s a topic he’s interested in, because he keeps talking about it while they walk around the shopping center, telling stories, laughing and even glowing when he talks about the adventures he lived when he was a kid. He says there are two more toys he fondly remembers, but he had to leave them home before he came to Chicago. He chokes up a little when he says he hopes they’re still there if someday he can come back to get them, and he regrets not giving them to his little nephews.

    “Maybe that way there could be more options for them to remember me,” he says, sighing and making a face. “I didn’t think about it well enough, I was too young, never thought I was going to care about things like that in the future,” he says, lowering his voice, swallowing and looking away for a moment. He shakes his head then, making a move with his hand to play it down. “That’s why I’m going to do it right with Joanna. That way she will always remember me,” he smiles huge, looking at Ryan.

    Ryan didn’t have enough time to think about how maybe the birth of Cassie’s baby, the celebration and the gift, had a way more deeper meaning for Brendon than it could seem at first sight. He knows first hand that, when affection doesn’t come from the conventional sources, your mind tries to look for another way to make up for it, one way or another. For Ryan was hockey, Spencer, the Smiths. Brendon seemed to gravitate towards Cassie when it came to affection and bonding, although Ryan remembers that time Brendon said Cassie wasn’t as much as Spencer was for Ryan. Ryan doesn’t know if it’s because Cassie doesn’t offer that kind of affection to Brendon or if Brendon thinks he’s not worth it. However, keeping in mind what Ryan has learned about Brendon since he knows him, he could venture it’s the latter.

    He also never thought about how strange must be knowing you have a family, brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, who doesn’t know a thing about you and doesn’t seem to care either. Strange and painful. When Brendon told him about it, Ryan admired his ability to move forward and keep on with his life even being so young but, now that he thinks about it, he probably admires even more Brendon’s strength to keep on going in spite of being rejected by his own family. Ryan knew how was to not being close with his family, but that’s far away from the rejection Brendon endures.

    “You’re going to be her favorite uncle, you’ll see,” he says, smiling. “You’ll teach her how to make mischiefs and Cassie will want to kill you.”

    Brendon looks at him with big eyes and a huge smile, showing all of his teeth. He steps closer to Ryan but he stops right there, grabbing his arm instead and squeezing his biceps while he bites his lips.

    “Thanks,” he says, nodding, as if he wanted to make Ryan sure he’s thanking him from the heart, pulling him a bit towards one of the first toy stores they see. “Come, come on.”

    Ryan just gets to sneak out when they’ve already spent almost an hour looking for toys and Brendon has decided he likes four of them, so he just have to pick the one he likes the most (and he can afford). He goes to one of the first sport stores he saw before and he wrote down to visit on his mental list, going straight to the place where the thermal undershirts are, looking around because he needs to replace the ones he already has. He doubts between the blue and the black one, so he ends up taking both of them with a shrug. It’s not until he’s on the line to pay when he sees a specific stand and opens a smile, an idea crossing his mind.

    Brendon’s waiting at the door of the store Ryan left him when he gets back from a really productive trip to the animal store. He’s looking at his phone with a plastic bag with another store’s label hanging from his arm. Brendon raises his head as if he just got aware of Ryan’s presence before he even opens his mouth, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

    “I was just about texting you. I didn’t choose any of the ones we saw here, they didn’t please me enough. But I went to look around while you sneaked out…” he says sarcastically, making a face before smiling and putting away his phone, opening the bag while he walks towards Ryan.” And, look. It’s…” He gets a big purple stuffed rhino out of the bag, looking at Ryan with sparkling eyes, his smile as big as his face. “Perfect!”

    Ryan laughs and hangs his own bags over one of his arms to reach with his hands and hold the toy, feeling it really soft under his fingers and smiling big when he gives it back to Brendon.

    “Didn’t you buy another one for yourself?” He jokes, and Brendon pouts, wrinkling his nose and mocking Ryan, repeating the question with a ridiculous voice, shaking his head and laughing.

    “I would have, you know?” He says, taking the plush back and putting it in the bag. He doesn’t say why he didn’t do it, thought, closing the bag and speaking again. “We need wrapping paper. I’m not gonna bring it like this. Or, like a cute gift bag or something.”

    “Oh! There’s a store in the corner with huge colorful gift bags and boxes and toys, all that stuff. I think it’s a stationery store or something, I don’t know. One of those place that sells a lot of things,” says Ryan getting excited, mostly because he’s like a shopaholic when it comes to stationery supplies, buying anything he thinks it can be useful even when he doesn’t use it at all. The last binder he bought ended up like a toy for Zeppelin.

    He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Brendon grabs his arm and pulls to start walking, releasing him just when he’s sure Ryan’s following him. This time Ryan’s more collaborative, looking for the best gift bag, choosing the best color for the paper filler. Also, he insist on adding a huge paper bow to place on top of the bag, in a pretty color that contrast with the bad and the paper filler. They’re almost late when they get out of the shopping center, walking to the parking lot. Brendon’s jumping and saying again and again how awesome the gift is, how happy he is for finding something like this.

    “You sure found what you were looking for, or so it seems,” Brendon jokes, talking about all of the bags Ryan is carrying. “And you said you didn’t want to come… I’m starting to think what you like is putting up a fight.”

    “The most part of the things are for the dogs, actually,” says Ryan looking at his own bag, remembering something right then. “Oh!” He stops where he is, changing the bags for one hand to the other to reach one of them, letting one of the bags open and making the new bed for Aunt Em fall on the floor. He laughs and huffs when he gets to the bag he wants, opening it. He gets what’s inside, smiling at Brendon and putting the piece of clothing over his chest. Brendon frowns a little and looks down at himself, or at the red hoodie Ryan just put over him, actually.

    “I hope this is not for Spencer and you’re measuring his size with me, because then I think you have a perception problem we missed during your check-up,” Brendon jokes, looking at Ryan and waiting for an answer to what he’s doing. Ryan laughs, giving him a dirty look for a second.

    “Asshole. This is for you,” he says, making a satisfied face. “It seems it’s your size. It’s…” He shrugs, biting his lip. “From Rat. To compensate.”

    “Ohh, okay,” Brendon laughs, nodding and holding the hoodie in place with a hand on his chest, looking at it better. “Tell Rat I say thank you,” he jokes looking at Ryan while his face start to look like the color of the hoodie. “Can you hold this for me?” He asks, handing Ryan the bag he’s carrying before he can agree, taking the hoodie and putting it on, looking at it again and putting his hands in the pockets after putting the hood over his head, smiling. “How do I look?”

    “Hmm. It looks like my perception is totally fine, after all,” Answers Ryan, smiling with his lips between his teeth, looking at Brendon from head to toe. “You look great.”

    “I knew it.” Brendon laughs, taking his bag from Ryan’s hand and elbowing him when he does it, starting to walk again, talking in a lower voice. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, really.”

    Ryan shrugs, playing it down. He’s going to say he likes buying gifts, but the truth is this is the first gift he buys to anyone and he just discovered how much he likes it, so it doesn’t seem like a good reasoning.

    “There was one with my last name and my number on it. I was going to pick that one, but then I thought it would be a little… narcissistic?” Says Ryan, laughing. Brendon laughs too, reaching the car and leaning in the passenger door, not getting in and looking at Ryan before speaking.

    “I wouldn’t mind to wear it,” he says, shrugging. “Your team wears pretty colors. I’ll just wear it because of that, of course…” He adds, looking at Ryan sideways before turning around and opening the door to get in the car. Ryan stays where he is for a moment, surprised by the answer, laughing then and shaking his head while he swallows to wet away the dryness of his throat. He gets all of the bags in the trunk before going to the driver seat, getting in and bucking the seatbelt.

    “You can always have one of mine. Although, well… you’ll have no other choice but to wear my number and my name. If you like the colors so much to overlook that…” he says, trying not to smile and avoiding looking at Brendon directly.

    “I could make the sacrifice of wearing your name,” Brendon says with the same casual tone, getting his phone from his pocket and sliding his fingers through the screen, looking at Ryan for a second. “Should I text Jon we’re coming? You’re coming with me, right?”

    “Yeah, okay,” Ryan nods, clearing his throat when his voice sounds weird, not sure if he said yes just because he’s stuck thinking about Brendon wearing his team jersey. “Are you guiding or should I use the GPS?”

    They don’t take long to get there, it doesn’t seem like it, at least, maybe because Brendon doesn’t stop talking all the way there in that casual, talkative way that’s so him, making Ryan laugh every now and then. Before they can notice, the GPS tell them they have arrived to their destination.

    Ryan blinks confused when he sees so many cars parked there, looking at Brendon and swallowing a little bit more nervous than before. Ryan’s not good with people, he’s not good at talking with strangers, and that house seems full of them. Brendon gives him a warm look and holds his hand, squeezing before getting out of the car. “You just don’t get away from me”, he says right before ringing the doorbell, and from outside Ryan can hear the murmur of voices inside.

    A girl Ryan’s never seen in his life opens the door, and she screams Brendon’s name and hugs him the moment she sees him, the voices getting louder now, more present. They get in immediately when the girl pulls at Brendon and Brendon pulls at Ryan, and Ryan almost feels like when they’ve finished a game and the fans are all over them when they leave the rink to go to the locker room. This time, however, the attention is not on him, even if some of them greet him before getting to Brendon. The attention is on his companion, who gets in like a hurricane, hugging and kissing and greeting everyone there, asking for Cassie and the baby.

    “Brendon! What were you waiting for to come home? Playing diva as always, uh?” Asks a guy that Ryan recognizes from Brendon’s pictures on his wall. That must be Jon Walker.

    “Playing? Excuse me?” Brendon says, dramatically offended. “I _am_ a diva, Jon.”

    “And I think I know you,” says Jon, this time talking to Ryan, offering his hand. “Ryan Ross, one of the best defensemen I’ve seen in my life. You’re doing amazing this season, watching every game is like riding a rollercoaster. Jon Walker, Cassie’s husband.”

    “Nice to meet you,” says Ryan while he shakes his hand, feeling somehow tense and artificial. He’s used to receive compliments, but somehow this one makes him feel uncomfortable, embarrassed. “Uh. Thanks.”

    “Come with me. Cassie’s in the back yard, we’re taking pictures,” says Jon, slapping Ryan’s shoulder and making a gesture with his head, starting to walk towards a large French door that gives access to the back yard.

    Brendon looks at Ryan for a second, smiling a little and gracing subtlety his wrist before walking behind Jon and making Ryan a gesture to follow him. It’s just a few steps to the yard, and the moment they set a foot on it, Cassie’s there, sitting in a wicker chair, glowing as mothers do when they just had a baby, some people around her and a photographer looking for the best angle to use the natural sunlight.

    “Brendon!” The girl calls him, raising the hand that doesn’t hold the baby on her lap, smiling big and looking then at Ryan, raising her eyebrows in surprise but not losing her smile. “And Ryan. I’m glad you came,” she says the moment they get closer, almost immediately because Brendon _runs_ towards her. Ryan smiles a little and it feels forced, raising his hand as a greeting and looking around, watching everybody smiling, chatting, making silly faces to make the baby laugh, the photographer snapping pictures here and there. He doesn’t think he’s felt more out of place in his whole life.

    “C-congratulations,” he murmurs, not really sure if Cassie can hear him over the mess of people, voices and laughs, staying a little bit apart and moving to the side, hunched over himself.

    Cassie thanks him while Brendon starts to wander around her asking: “Can I? Can I? Can I?” until Cassie tells him to sit down where she is and puts the baby in his arms. Brendon opens his eyes almost as big as his smile, looking at Ryan absolutely amazed.

    “And where are those skates you promised?” Asks Cassie, elbowing Ryan with a big smile, clearly joking. “Thanks for coming, I know how little you like human contact.” She says, smiling and looking back at Brendon. “Watching him like this, who can believe him when he says he doesn’t want children. Although he probably likes to be the fun uncle better, the one the kids love. She’s going to love him, I’m sure of that,” she says totally convinced, looking then at Ryan. “How’s everything going on with Brendon?”

    Ryan’s a couple of seconds late with his answer, his look fixed on Brendon for a longer moment than it could be considered adequate. He clears his throat and looks at Cassie, smiling a little and using a hand to rub his hair in a nervous gesture.

    “Good, good,” he answers quickly when he notices he’s been silent for too long. “He’s a good substitute. Not like you weren’t… you know. But. That. He’s up to scratch, he’s a good physio,” he says, nodding and looking back at Brendon again, who’s still smiling big with the baby in his arms, looking at Cassie again. “I thought baby’s feet grow really fast the first years, or so they say, so the skates should be better for when they slow down a little.” He tries to joke, laughing and sounding a little hysteric in his own ears. Cassie laughs with him, or maybe she laughs at him, looking at him with a knowing smile and nodding.

    “I’m glad he has a friend there, you know? Brendon told me you’re good friends,” says Cassie, looking at him and pressing her lips together in a smile, looking back at Brendon with the baby, watching him open his mouth when the little one yawns. “I’d have never tell, the both of you getting along. But, as I said, I’m glad you did.”

    “He’s. He’s a great guy,” says Ryan, not really confortable with the direction the conversation is heading, afraid of saying something that gives himself away. He wants to ask her why everybody thinks they would be so incompatible, but he chooses not to talk too much.

    “Oh, Ry! Ryan,” Brendon calls him, his arms still in the same position Cassie put them when she placed the baby on them, moving just his head to point at the bag he left on the floor. “Show Cassie what we brought,” he asks with a giant smile, nodding and jumping lightly on his seat, looking right away at the baby to see if she’s still intact.

    Ryan looks around to get the bag, gabbing it and handing it to Cassie with a little smile. He rubs his hands on his jeans when Cassie holds the bag, clearing his throat again and speaking so low he’s afraid Cassie won’t be able to hear him even standing so close to him.

    “It’s Brendon’s, actually. It’s. He bought it,” he says, feeling the need to clear that out, not really knowing why.

    Cassie nods, thanking both of them anyway, opening the bag and getting the one that contains the present. Brendon says the decoration it’s almost entirely Ryan’s, making him blush and bury himself away in the corner that he’s made his. Cassie looks at him smiling, placing the bag in one of the tables around, starting to get out a lot of paper filler before getting carefully the toy, raising her eyebrows and looking at Brendon delighted.

    “It’s a purple rhino! It’s totally you!” She says, laughing a little and making Brendon burst a laugh. She brings it to her face, squeezing it and looking at Brendon again, surprised. “And it smells like blackberries! Thanks, honey, I bet it’ll be her favorite,” she says, getting closer to Brendon and hugging him as best as she can, kissing his cheek. Brendon laughs and starts getting up the chair to give the baby back to Cassie, but she stops him, putting the toy over Brendon’s shoulder and moving her hand to call the photographer. “Stay like that, you have to get a picture with her. The fist of many more,” she smiles, staying behind him and looking at Ryan, making him a gesture to get closer. “You too, come here. You have to be in the picture.”

    “Oh, no. No, really,” Ryan shakes his head no, moving his hand and trying to smile. “I’m not a fan of pictures… It’s okay.”

    “Come on, Ryan. Are you going to be the only one who’s not in a picture?” Says Cassie, and Brendon turns his head to look at him, pouting. “Look, I have an idea. That way you won’t be uncomfortable.”

    Cassie moves fast, too fast for a woman who just gave birth two days ago, grabbing Ryan by his wrist and pulling at him, taking the baby from Brendon’s arms and putting her carefully in Ryan’s, who opens his eyes huge, starting to panic. Brendon looks at him chewing at his bottom lip like he’s watching the final fight in a movie, and gets away when Cassie moves his hand to make him move, taking Ryan to where Brendon was and making him seat carefully.

    “There, you see?” Cassie smiles at him, placing the head of the baby correctly on Ryan’s forearm. “It looks like she likes you,” says Cassie, and Ryan realizes that the baby is looking at him with open, huge eyes fixed on him. If this was Cassie’s idea to make him feel comfortable, it’s not working. “Come, B, you stay here,” she says, and Brendon runs to seat on the chair’s arm, taking the toy that’s still over his shoulder and putting his arm around Ryan’s, holding the rhino to make it look like it’s saying hi to the camera, opening a huge smile.

    Ryan doesn’t know where to look at, because he has the feeling that, if he stops looking at the baby, something horrible will happen, like she would slip from his arms or disintegrate or move and fall down. He thinks he’s not even breathing because the baby is so little, she looks so fragile compared to his arms and hands, hands that could cover her completely. He feels Brendon getting closer to him, whispering near his cheek, telling him to relax, that everything’s okay, before smiling again when the photographer starts to snap a few pictures. It’s easy for him to say that, when he’s not the one holding a baby the same size of his hand. Ryan never held a baby in his life, and it will probably show in his panic face when those pictures come out.

    He knows the danger has passed when Cassie’s arms get between his own and she takes baby Joanna to let him get up the chair and breathe. Brendon gives the toy to Cassie and she says something about going to leave it in the crib, promising Brendon more pictures and Ryan not to make him hold the baby again with half a smile. Brendon waits for Cassie to go away before looking at Ryan with exaggerated fondness, starting to tell him how cute he looked with the baby in his arms in a voice that sound too much as mocking him for his state of terror.

    “Cute?” Ryan asks, his palms sweating just thinking about it. “Give me the best fucking forward to play just by myself. But don’t put a baby in my arms. Did you see it? It’s. It’s _tiny_.”

    “She’s tiny,” Brendon corrects him with an amused laugh. “And that’s why you looked cute, because I never saw you more scared,” he says, laughing out loud and then looking at one of the tables where there are some canapés and cold cuts. “Let’s grab a snack?”

    “I’m glad my terror amuses you,” answers Ryan, swallowing and shaking his head no. “I don’t want anything, you eat. You didn’t tell me this would be some kind of party,” he adds, lowering his voice. Brendon looks at him still smiling but with a little less intensity.

    “What did you understand when I said ‘celebrate the birth’? This is way calmer than the way you guys celebrate your games,” Brendon jokes, but he licks his lips impatient, waiting for Ryan to say something. Ryan looks around like a caged animal trying to find a way to get out, getting closer to Brendon’s body as if that way he could protect himself from something.

    “I thought it was just a way of speaking. You know, that it was just you and they will prepare something for you. Not… I didn’t thought, didn’t know people made these things when babies are born,” he explains, wrinkling the hem of his sleeves with his hands. Brendon looks at him, licking his lips again and making a guilty face. He reaches with his hand to grab the fabric Ryan is wrinkling, pulling at it a little and starting to move slowly, wanting Ryan to follow him.

    “Everybody’s really nice, I promise. They’re Cassie’s friends. Mine too. It’s not, you don’t have to be uncomfortable,” he says, walking backwards until he gets to one of the tables, the one that’s farther from the crowd in the yard. He takes a plate with snacks with his free hand, placing it between them. “You have to eat something, or your dietitian will get mad at me for making you skip a meal.”

    “Easy for you to say. You know this people; you’re in your element. I didn’t even know these parties existed,” Ryan says, shaking his head no again. “I don’t want to eat, seriously. I’ll eat when I get home, don’t worry about it.”

    Brendon lowers his gaze, swallowing and nodding a little before putting back the plate where it was, moving his head to look around for a second while he lets Ryan go and bring his hand to his neck, rubbing the nape with his fingers.

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that…” He makes a move with his free hand to specify what he can’t say with words, clearing his throat. “We can go if you want. Or you can, you can go if you don’t want me to come with you. It’s okay. I understand. It was my fault.”

    Ryan looks at him and looks at everybody around, tempted to accept the offer and go. Brendon can stay if he wants to, he doesn’t have to come with him. He looks at everybody, hearing them laugh, talking casually, his whole body tensed up even now that he’s away from them. He looks at Brendon again, how his face has changed compared to a few minutes ago, when he had the baby in his arms, when he came in or when Cassie got the toy out of the bag.

    “Hey,” he calls him, sighing and bumping his arm with his hand, biting his lip and looking at him. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you knew I’m so socially awkward. It’s fine, really.”

    Brendon nods and smiles a little, short and through his nose, just with a side of his mouth, looking then at the people in the distance, putting his hands in the hoodie’s pockets and chewing at the inside of his mouth. Where they were before with Cassie, now there are a group of three girls and two guys, also taking a picture with the baby. Inside the house starts to play a nice music, not loud at all, just creating a good atmosphere.

    “You can go with your friends, if you want to,” says Ryan, trying to sound more relaxed and calm than before, smiling at Brendon. “You don’t need to stay with me all the time.”

    “It’s not a matter of me needing to stay with you or not, I came here with you because I wanted to be with you,” says Brendon with a soft voice, lowering his gaze again, taking one of the canapés and putting it apart in the plate, starting to break it a little with his fingers. “Maybe I’ll go in a while.”

    Ryan nods and doesn’t say anything, observing Brendon, watching him torture the canapé. His state doesn’t get all that better, not to make him feel comfortable in the party, but being there apart just with Brendon helps him relax a little, breathe better. It’s curious, because Ryan has gone to many parties, more than he can remember and some of them in places he didn’t even know the owners. But he was always with the team, Spencer and Tom were always there to back him up, and those parties were a lot different.

    This party feels something closer, more intimate. More familiar. Ryan just knows Cassie from work, he didn’t even knew Jon before today and, however, he’s at their party, surrounded by people who shared important moments with the Walkers, who still do. It’s inevitable to feel a little out of place, especially when all of them look at him like they’re seeing something Ryan doesn’t see, like they knew a secret Ryan doesn’t know. It’s not making his discomfort go away, not at all.

    However, he doesn’t go. He doesn’t go because he came with Brendon and he doesn’t want to go without him, he wants to be there with him, and he looks like he’s enjoying the party. It’s totally understandable, Ryan would enjoy it too if that baby were Spencer and Linda’s daughter. Or, at least, Brendon looked like he was enjoying it until Ryan decided to be a whining hermit, afraid of a girl that’s barely days old.

    “Maybe I’ll go with you,” he says then, biting the inside of his lip and breathing deep, letting it out through his nose. “We shouldn’t be here apart all the time. It’s… I should try to integrate, right? Now that I’m here. I can do it,” he assures, telling to himself that it’s not that much; it’s not something he doesn’t do in any club party where he has to talk with all kinds of sports celebrities and journalists. When Brendon looks back at him, he does it with a soft smile and sad eyes, shaking his head and making a face.

    “You don’t have to do that, really. You don’t have to try to make me feel better when I’m the one who brought you here without a warning and ruined your day,” he says in a low voice, smiling short again, sighing deep and rubbing a side of his face with his hand. “I’m not feeling like joining them, anyway.”

    “Come on, Bren,” Ryan whispers, and he feels the need to place a hand on his cheek to make him look at him, but he stops himself before even moving, biting his lip. “I’ve overreacted, I do that sometimes. It’s just a party. I live surrounded by them,” he smiles big, making a face to make Brendon smile wider. “Come on, we look like the high school outcasts standing here,” he jokes.

    Brendon looks at him for a few seconds before nodding, moving his shoulders back when he puts his hands in his pockets again, starting to walk in a slow pace, waiting to see if Ryan joins him to keep walking towards the rest of the people.

    It’s instantaneous; the moment Brendon gets in somebody’s area this one runs to greet him, asking how is he doing, starting to tell some story that includes him. Brendon introduces Ryan to the ones that come to talk to him, and Ryan realizes almost no one knows whom he is. It’s the first time Ryan is someone anonymous between so many people. In fact, it’s like he’s the one who’s next to a celebrity, now that Brendon’s loosening up, getting his energy back, getting himself back. He talks and laughs and sings sometimes along the music playing, making jokes, playing with the kids that are there and Ryan didn’t even saw at first. Ryan laughs sometimes, and even talks in some short conversations, but the most part of the time he just watches how Brendon gets along with everybody while he drinks from a water bottle he got from one of the tables. Those are the only moments he feels like relaxing a little bit more, when Brendon’s capturing his attention so much he forgets the rest of the world.

    “Brendon!” Ryan hears a loud voice calling Brendon’s name, and when Brendon turns around, Ryan can see him open a really huge smile when he sees who just called him. “Baby. Honey. Love…”

    “Jacky!” Brendon runs and almost climbs up the guy who looks like he escaped from an alternative clothing catalogue, hugging him with legs and arms, hanging from him like a monkey while he laughs and tells him how much he wanted to see him again.

    “I had to come and see how Cassie was. Did you see how beautiful that baby girl is?” He says, looking at his side and covering his mouth but talking out loud. “Are we sure Jon is the father?” He asks, and Jon punches his arm right away, making Brendon laugh his ass off, getting down of him and looking for Ryan. It shouldn’t be difficult to find him, he just have to look for the only person who’s staring at him without even blinking.

    “Come here,” Brendon says to that ‘Jacky’, and he hooks his fingers on the guy’s jean’s loop, pulling at him to get him where Ryan is. “Jacky, this is Ryan. Ryan, this crazy man is my friend Jacky. It’s been, how much? Like a year and a half since we met last time?”

    “Oh, _Ryan_ ,” Jacky offers him his hand, looking at Brendon. “I was afraid you wouldn’t introduce me to your boy, that you wanted to keep him all for yourself, away from everyone else in the back yard,” he jokes, and Brendon seems to find it really funny. Ryan’s glad he didn’t eat any snacks because right now his stomach would be making a smoothie out of them.

    “We’re friends. Ryan plays for the Hounds, he’s Cassie’s friend too. And he’s straight, so…” Brendon says, shrugging and lying with that ability Ryan forgot he had.

    “Oh, great then. Nobody claimed this ass yet,” says Jacky, slapping Brendon’s butt, Brendon kicking his shin in return but not meaning a thing since he does it with that teenager laugh. Ryan’s stomach turns into a blender machine once again, but this time for a totally different motive. “Nice to meet you, Ryan,” says the guy, frowning at Brendon a little before going back to him. “And sorry for my mistake.”

    “It’s okay.” It’s the only thing Ryan says, smiling short at Jacky and bringing the bottle to his lips to sip at it, maybe to swallow the rest of his words or to make something with his hands instead of bringing them to somewhere on Brendon’s body that doesn’t say a lot but it’ll say enough.

    Brendon’s back being the center of the conversation and Ryan stays in the background, watching them sharing how their life are now, what they are doing, how many days would Jacky stay in Chicago and if they can meet up again before he leaves. Brendon’s someone physical, one of those who touches you when he talks to you, and he touches while he laughs, and he touches while he explains things. Ryan knows that, he’s seen him do that with everybody in this party, but not everybody touched him back the way Jacky does, touching, touching, touching, holding Brendon’s hand to draw in his palm with his finger how his house is organized, grabbing Brendon’s chin to turn his face and point out a beauty mark he never saw before, pushing his fingers between Brendon’s hair to tell he likes how he wears it now.

    Ryan observes. He observes and drinks water and drinks more water until the bottle’s empty and he loses his distraction. He tries not to think about how it looks like Brendon had something with that guy or, at least, said guy wouldn’t mind having something with Brendon. Ryan gets it, who would mind? The question is the simple idea is putting a heavy weight in Ryan’s stomach, making it burn, setting fire to his insides and spreading to his limbs, making him put his hands in his pockets and tighten his jaw every time Jacky’s hands touch places they shouldn’t touch.

    He ends up looking away, anywhere but where they are, but somehow he always ends up looking back, always in a moment he wouldn’t like to watch. Luckily, more people join them, to greet Brendon as well as Jacky, and the conversation topic changes to one there’s not so necessary the use of hands. Ryan never thought talking about newborns could be something he’d be glad. Two of the girls talking to them are the mothers of three of the kids Brendon was running around with before, and another couple says they’re on the waiting list for adoption.

    “Now there will be more and more kids coming to the family, that means we’re getting old,” says one of the guys, drinking from his glass, talking to Brendon and Ryan then. “Don’t you guys want one too?” He asks, and Brendon bursts out a laugh that echoes in the place above all the noise.

    “Ryan’s straight, honey,” Jacky says, and the guy that asked the question apologizes quickly while Brendon’s wiping away his laughing tears. Ryan would roll his eyes and laugh and ask why everybody thinks they’re together if it wasn’t because, actually, they are together. In the party and all that, and outside the party too, but not like together, _together_. It’s just… that. It would even be funny that everybody thinks he and Brendon are a couple, but it’s not. It’s not because Ryan’s a well-known person, even if it doesn’t look like it in this room, and a guess like that in the wrong lips could make his career go to hell. It’s not because, if all of those people think so, anybody can think so too. It’s not because a part of Ryan wouldn’t mind if they were.

    “Sorry, I have to go to the restroom,” he says after the corresponding laughs and playing down the fact that everybody in that room knows he likes men, even if they don’t know they know, turning around and looking for Cassie to ask her where to scape. He doesn’t ask her with those words, but that’s his goal anyway.

    The sound of the voices, the laughs, the music, dies down when he closes the door of the restroom and doesn’t even lock, just goes straight to the sink, holding himself in the piece of furniture and closing his eyes, breathing deep. He lets his head fall between his arms, trying to make the weight that oppresses his chest go away. This was a mistake, coming here was a mistake. He should have left Brendon here and go home, where nobody could find something he was so carefully hiding for so long, where nobody could suggest if this is the right moment to have a baby with Brendon.

    It’s obvious, now that he thinks about it. They come together to a party where Ryan doesn’t know anybody but Brendon knows them all, bringing a gift for the baby they bought _together_. What was he expecting them to think? Everyone in Brendon’s life knows he’s gay, and Ryan showed up in that house with a giant sign on his face saying ‘I’m his boy’ without even knowing, like an idiot. And Cassie worked with them, and Jon _knew_ him, for God’s sake, how could he be so stupid and careless?

    He opens the faucet to splash water on his face, trying to clear his mind, put in order his thoughts. He rubs his face, not bothering to dry it and sitting on the toilet cover, some drops of water falling from his face to his jeans, rubbing his hands together frantically while he thinks about what to do when he gets out of that restroom. Maybe going away could make things more obvious, but staying won’t help to make them stop thinking what they’re thinking. Ryan doesn’t even know how to act to make it look like what Brendon says about him being straight is true, or partially true anyway. And to add fuel to the fire, Jacky is making everything worse, because Ryan can’t think straight every time he watches him smile at Brendon or touch him or make him laugh like he does, something that happens too often for his liking. After all, Brendon’s totally free and, contrary to what everybody seems to think, no one stops him from having something with Jacky if he wanted to.

    It’s fine. Actually, that would be good for Ryan, given the circumstances, if it wasn’t because the raging fire that runs inside him, burning his throat and tensing up his muscles doesn’t seem to indicate it would be good at all. To make it worse, and right in the perfect moment, his phone buzzes in his pocket, saying he’s got some new messages. With a little bit of luck it could be Spencer or Tom, or anyone else, actually, telling him they need him for something urgent, providing him a good excuse to get out of there without raising suspicions. Unfortunately, Ryan’s luck stays in the hockey rink, so he has to manage like the rest of human beings in every other field, if not worse.

    It’s Brendon’s name the one that appears on the screen when Ryan looks at it, the texts asking him if he’s okay, telling him they can leave soon if he’s still uncomfortable, joking about if he’s escaped through a window. To be honest, he want’s to leave, he wants to get out of there but he doesn’t want to bail out on Brendon like that, and he doesn’t want to force him to leave with him. Besides, the idea of leaving Brendon there now that Jacky’s around it’s not uplifting at all. On the other hand, he doesn’t now how much time he will be able to stand the comments and looks without blowing up and run away from there. And that would be suspicious.

    “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute” it’s the only thing he texts back to Brendon, huffing and thinking without reaching any conclusion. In the end, he stands up and breathes deep a couple of times, letting it out hard and moving his shoulders like he does when he’s nervous before a game, convincing himself. Maybe now that Brendon already said that they’re friends and Ryan’s straight, the conversation will stop including the idea of them being a couple and all this will pass as a funny story.

    He gets out of the restroom with that idea in mind, joining the party again with his hands in his pockets and his back tensed up, every one of his muscles tightened, chewing compulsively at his bottom lip. He looks around for Cassie, to approach her and put a little bit of distance with Brendon. He looks around for him too, though ~~t~~ , even if it’s just to smile at him in order not to worry him.

    “You’re still here! Woah, I think I can feel proud and say this party is a success,” says Cassie, smiling at him while Brendon moves a hand from the distance to say hi. “How are you doing? Did you try the pastries? They’re delicious. That’s a good thing of being a mother, you know?” She says, biting a cream-filled cannolo and laughing. “You’re eating for two.”

    “Does that count when you’ve already had the baby?” Ryan asks, noticing how rude that sounded the moment he hears himself and sees how Cassie opens his eyes wide, raising her eyebrows, and slapping his arms. “Auch! No, I didn’t mean…” He tries to fix it, choking on his words and swallowing before speaking again. “You’re great, whatever you eat, Cassie.”

    She laughs and shakes her head, finishing her pastry and sucking on her finger for emphasis.

    “Thanks, Ryan,” she answers, and Ryan can hear her voice mocking his mistake. “And, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but this little bug is going to keep eating from me for at least a few years more,” she says, pointing with his head at the crib where the baby is sleeping. “So, yeah, it still counts.”

    “Oh,” says Ryan eloquently, making a face. “Right. I didn’t… think about that,” he clears up, feeling his cheeks on fire. Cassie smiles, making a gesture to play it down.

    “You didn’t tell me how are you doing. Although, if you’re still here, I bet not that bad, uh?” She asks again, turning her head around to look at Brendon, who’s talking with another group of people now, Jacky still with him. “You have to admit Brendon knows how to liven up a party.”

    Ryan laughs, looking at Brendon and watching him get along with everybody for a few seconds before nodding slowly, licking his lips and forcing himself to look away and at Cassie again.

    “You don’t get bored with him, no,” he admits, laughing again when he lowers his gaze. Cassie stares at him in silence more time that’s probably polite, with a discreet but present smile.

    “Brendon’s a very special person. And I don’t mean it like…” Cassie makes a move with her hands, laughing. “I don’t mean it like an euphemism to say he’s peculiar or different. He is, too; he’s not like anybody I know. But besides that, Brendon’s actually special, you know? People don’t usually see it and just stay on the outside, just on the peculiar and different,” Cassie explains, looking back at Brendon in the distance, making a resigned face. “And that’s almost a perk, because, the moment that boy gets inside you, there’s no way to get him out.”

    Ryan swallows, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, not raising his eyes from the floor, as if his shoes were as interesting as the conversation. The uncomfortable feeling comes back and he doesn’t know if Cassie is waiting for an answer or not, what he knows is that he’d like not to think about his answer to that. However, before he can process his own actions, he finds himself talking.

    “He is,” he says, and he sounds so sincere even he can notice how he’s just fucked up, feeling his heart racing up and his palm starting to sweat. He doesn’t know what to say and doesn’t know what to do, so he just stays there looking at everywhere except Cassie, praying to every God in the universe to let him not be as obvious for her as he was for himself.

    “Ryan…” Cassie calls him at the same time that she gets closer to him and, by the way she lowers her voice, Ryan know he was that obvious after all. “Listen, I don’t know what…” She starts but she stops there, smiling a moment and putting her hand on his arm. “You’re a good person, I know, I know you enough to know that, so I know this is not necessary, but…” She shrugs a little, keeping her smile on her face when she speaks again and Ryan holds his breath. “Don’t hurt him, okay?”

    It’s just three words. Three simple words that push the button, that become a revelation to Ryan and make his heart race like crazy, his throat close and his stomach twist. His eyes open wide on their own, his mouth gets dry and his palms get sweaty, and he gets in such a state of terror that, for seconds that seems like hours, he just can stare at Cassie without blinking.

    “I-I have to go,” he says when he reacts, his whole body reactivating and moving on automatic, his heart pumping blood fast to his muscles, all tensed up and ready to run away, to fly if it’s needed. He doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t even look at her again, just goes straight to the door, hearing Cassie calling his name behind him. He gets his phone out to text a quick ‘gotta go, sorry’ to Brendon because he hasn’t even look around to find him. He doesn’t want to explain it; he doesn’t want to talk about it with him.

    He says goodbye to Jon with a move of his hand and a smile that he’s sure doesn’t look like a smile at all, getting out of the house and closing the door behind him, going to his car as fast as he can, his hands shaking as he gets the keys from his pocket. He’s starting the car to get out of there when he sees Brendon open the door in the distance, his face showing he doesn’t know what just happened. Ryan’s not sure if Brendon can see him from where he is, but there’s no doubt he’s going to see him go when he does.

    He doubts with the engine running and his hands on the wheel, biting his lips and breathing hard, as if his lungs where fighting for keeping on working. He looks at Brendon and lets out a pained sound, closing his eyes hard and resting his head on the wheel, counting the seconds and waiting, just waiting for Brendon not to be there when he opens his eyes again. He doesn’t know if he wants to have him at his door asking him to get out or if he prefers not to confront him right now, the only thing he knows is that he doesn’t want to pass in front of Brendon with the car and make him watch him go with that lost look on his face.

    When he opens his eyes again, the main door is closed and Brendon is nowhere to be seen. Ryan doesn’t stop to think about how that makes him feel, just engaging reverse gear and getting out from where he’s parked with sharp movements but not too fast, his mind focused on getting the hell out of there, just get out of there. He joins to the road and speeds up without looking back, his ears ringing and his heartbeat as the only sound around him.

 

*

 

    He doesn’t even know how he does it, coming back home without the GPS, how long he takes, if he’s run a red light, if he’s gotten into a wormhole and appear directly there. He’s too gone to pay attention to things that are usually obvious, his mind screaming to get away from where he’s gotten into, to find the way to calm the chaos inside his thoughts or his physic body would end up imploding. Ryan just thinks about a thing he can do right now, about a thing he _needs_ to do, so he gets home and release the dogs in the back yard while he eats whatever he can find, changes his clothes and grab his always ready bag. He leaves everything else there except for his keys, getting out again with his hockey stuff hanging over his shoulder.

    He skates until his legs hurt and his lungs burn, until his face is red due to the contrast of the cold ice and his body heat, until he can’t think about anything but the speed, the sharp rhythm changes, the hit of stick against puck. He doesn’t know what time it is when he gets out of the rink, but it’s dark already. He just goes back to his car without caring about taking a shower, getting in and driving home again, this time calmer, more relaxed.

    The dogs must notice it, because this time they get closer to him and rub against his legs and jump with joy, barking their welcome back and wiggling their tails, excited. Ryan smiles at them and that’s the first time in a few hours. He feels weird, as if the muscles of his face were frozen in a serious expression because of the ice, and he can’t help but let the bag fall on the floor and sitting down on it, right there at the door, with his legs crossed and the four dogs around him, licking him and trying to climb him, making him laugh when he tries not to let them lick his mouth.

    When he can free himself from the dogs, he gets up but leaves the bag there to pick it up later, taking his shoes off and starting to get rid of his sweater and shirt that start to feel uncomfortable against his skin. When he gets to the living room and looks at the couch, he sees his phone there, the light on the screen indicating he has new messages.

    They’re from Brendon, the first one asking him if he’s going to come back, the rest going from this afternoon until two hours ago. They say Cassie has talked to him, and he swears he never said anything about them to her, not to her nor to anybody. He apologizes a hundred times, and asks him, please, to answer him, to tell him anything. Ryan reads them a few times, grimacing, feeling a little guilty for making Brendon feel bad, huffing and sitting on the floor again, this time with his back against the couch, pressing the screen to start writing.

    He text Brendon he has nothing to apologize for, Ryan never thought Brendon had told anything about them to anyone, he just had to get out of there. He texts he’s sorry. And it’s true he is, but staying there after knowing that, not only all of the guests thought they were together, but that Cassie, the only person connected to hockey apart of them both, thought that too, it was too much for Ryan.

    He sees how Brendon receives the texts, how he reads them right away and starts texting back. However, no answer appears on the screen. He stops, and before Ryan can think about it, his phone is buzzing in his hands, ringing with Brendon’s call. He bites his lips and breathes deep, letting it out with a sharp huff before picking up and bringing the phone to his ear.

    “Hey,” he says, not knowing what to expect from Brendon. He’d have all the right to be mad at him.

    “Ryan, hey,” Brendon answers, and he sounds relieved. “Listen, I don’t… Really, I’m so sorry for everything that happened today. I don’t even know why… I mean, Cassie knows we’re friends, but I never… Never, I promise, never I have insinuated or… Besides, we’re not even, we’re not… I wasn’t going to say something about us when, actually, we’re not… I don’t know why she thought what she thought, I promise,” he runs to explain, the urgency obvious in his voice. “But it’s fixed, and Cassie’s sorry too, and it won’t happen again.”

    “Brendon,” Ryan calls him, shaking his head no although Brendon can’t see him, “I know you didn’t say a thing, okay? I know. But… i-it’s not about happening again or not. They know, Bren. You heard them, everybody knows even if they’re not aware of it. And Cassie… Cassie works with us. And Jon _knows me_. And anybody in that room could talk about it or, or tell to their friends about that time they met a hockey player and thought he was gay. Do you know what the right person could do with those words?”

    “I know, I know. But the people there won’t… Ryan, they’re my friends, they’re not bad people, they won’t want to ruin another friend of mine’s career. Because that’s what you are, for them, a-and for me, right? We’re friends,” he speaks, and his breath is agitated. “And it’s my job too, so I assure you… The only one who knows who you are is Jon, and Jon is an angel. Nothing will happen. Really.”

    “How can you know? How can you know if any of them…? Listen, I’m not saying they’re bad people, okay? Or that they would do it on purpose. I’m just saying that every one of them has, at minimum, another ten more friends to talk about things, talk about how they were at this party and they met this supposedly famous hockey player who went there with another guy and spent all the time glued to him. It’s not a conclusion hard to reach, Brendon, especially for someone looking for a juicy story,” he explains, speaking faster as he talks, pausing for a second to swallow. “I’m sorry I left like that, okay? I’m sorry I bailed out on you, but I… It was better for me to leave,” he finishes, remembering Cassie’s face, her knowing smile, her words. It was clearly obvious to her, to who else could it be?

    “Hey, listen. Hear me out,” Brendon modules his voice, making it lower although he doesn’t manage to hide the urgency in it, it almost brings it out even more. “Let’s… Let’s talk about this in person, okay? Do you want that? I’d prefer to speak with you face to face and not… Not like this. I don’t want that, whatever you’re going to decide… I don’t want to talk about this through the phone. Okay?” He asks again, his voice shrinking in. Ryan sighs and nods, answering out loud when he remembers Brendon can’t see him.

    “Okay. Yeah, okay,” he says, looking at his side to see Rat coming fast and falling on his lap, resting her head on his thigh when he starts to pet her. “I have to take a shower but… How…? Where do we meet?”

    “We could… You can come here, if you want. Or, well, I can’t… It’s really late. But tomorrow. I can go there first time tomorrow, if that’s okay with you,” says Brendon, letting out a barely audible sigh. Ryan’s not sure if he wants to wait until tomorrow to talk about this and let things go back to normal.

    “I don’t mind going, don’t worry. If… If you want, I’ll take a shower and go there, I can be there in an hour, tops.” he says, chewing at the inside of his lip.

    “I’ll wait for you, then,” says Brendon, and he doesn’t say goodbye but the silence between them clearly marks the end of the conversation. However, Brendon doesn’t hang up, he just waits. Ryan makes a face and feels this is going much worse than he could think.

    “Okay… Gonna take that shower. See you in a minute,” he says, waiting to hear something at the other end of the line, something that lets him know if Brendon thinks this conversation can get better. However, Brendon just mutters a little ‘okay’ too, waiting a few more seconds in silence before hanging up this time. Ryan lets his phone fall on the couch again with a huff that makes Rat raise her head to look at him. “Now, what?” He asks the dog, which just turns her head and stares at him. “To be your obsession, you’re not really helping…” Ryan complains before kissing her head and moving to get up, letting Rat get down of his lap and go the way she came from.

    He’s nervous when he leaves his car in Brendon’s parking spot and starts climbing up the stairs to his home. He’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know if Brendon’s mad at him or not, because he doesn’t know if what they have will end up tonight, or because he doesn’t know if he wants it to end. Because he doesn’t know how he will react if that’s what happens and what implication will it have. He climbs every step with chaos in his thoughts and, before he can decide what he wants to say, he’s already at Brendon’s door. With a last huff, he raises his hand and knocks, putting it in his pocket later.

    It’s like Brendon were waiting for him right behind the door, because Ryan doesn’t even hear the steps coming, Brendon’s right there in a second, opening the door and standing in front of him, looking at him as if he’d been waiting since he hung up the phone. He doesn’t look mad, at least Ryan knows that now, but he almost would have prefer him to be, compared with how Brendon really is. He’s pale, as if he were sick or something, as if he ate something spoiled, and his eyes look huge and swollen, with a feverish shine that grows brighter when he blinks a couple of times before getting out of the way and letting Ryan come in.

    “Hi,” he says, and it feels heavy, as if he had to drag the words from the bottom of his chest all the way up his throat to force them out. Ryan smiles a little, swallowing the lump growing in his throat when he sees him like that, his face so different he looks almost like a totally different person.

    “Hi,” says Ryan while he comes in, going straight to the living room with uncertain steps. Brendon closes the door and follows him, walking ahead but not too much, going to the couch and waiting for Ryan to be close enough to sit, almost as a polite way of acting, something not typical of Brendon at all. It’s like he’s doing everything carefully, calculated.

    “Do you want… anything? Something to drink or…” Brendon shrugs, making a limp move with his hand, biting at his lips. Ryan feels even more uncomfortable now that Brendon’s behaving like that, so unnatural, so artificial and out of what he really is.

    “Just water,” he answers, and he almost says that he can get it himself, but in the last moment he decides to tell nothing. It’s almost like those first times when the atmosphere called for using the formal ‘Mr. Urie’. Brendon nods right away, standing up again and going to the kitchen, getting two glasses and filling them up with water, coming back to the room while he drinks his. He leaves Ryan’s glass on the center coffee table, sliding it until it’s right in front of Ryan.

    “I’ve been thinking about it, what you said,” he speaks suddenly, just like that. And it’s abrupt and out of place, but it’s the most Brendon thing Ryan’s ever seen since he got there. “And I guess you’re right, about the people and…” He lowers his gaze, making a move with his shoulders and frowning. “You’re not just anybody, things are not as easy or… or not easy, but. Everything’s more complicated for you, and I’m just making it even more complicated. And it’s true, I can't assure you nobody in that party’s gonna talk to anyone about you, I can’t assure you nobody will say we went together, and I can’t assure it won’t be misunderstood and everything will go to hell.” Brendon sighs, looking at Ryan and grimacing, pressing his lips together. “I want to think it won’t happen. I want to think everything will stay the same and you will be able to keep your… your, I don’t know, your secret, however you want to call it. I want to think this won’t come out. But I can’t assure it. And I don’t know what to do with how that makes me feel,” he adds, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his face, rubbing it hard, “because that’s the last thing I want. Ruining your career, your life.”

    “It’s not…” Ryan starts talking, swallowing and moving in the couch, not really knowing what words will come out of his mouth because his thoughts are running in every possible direction. “You won’t do that, Bren. Not you, it’s… It’s the circumstances. Everybody was saying those things, and Jacky and Cassie and, I didn’t think… I thought we were being discreet. I thought it wasn’t as obvious as Spencer said it was but, suddenly, it was so clear. And, if those people could see it… Who else? Do you understand?” He says, not really knowing where he wants to go with this. “And I don’t know… I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what to wait for, I don’t know if I’m overreacting, if tomorrow every tabloid will say I go to baby parties with a mysterious man, if somebody in the Club suspects something, if… I don’t know anything. And that makes me nervous.”

    “Ryan, the press know I’m your physio, they know Cassie was, it’s not… It’s so much probable that they think you have some injury than…” Brendon moves his hands to explain, shaking his head no. “Look, if I know something about these things is that people see what they wanna see, and if you don’t directly make out with a guy in front of them, nobody will believe it. Because it’s not convenient, okay? You’re. You’re too valuable as a player; there are so many people behind you that won’t… It’s not gonna happen, not because of this. And I understand that you’re nervous, but I want you to know that you’re not at risk, not now at least.” He sighs, closing his eyes and staying in silence a couple of seconds before speaking again. “Of course I can’t promise it will always be like that. I can’t even brag about how lucky I am in that field. And maybe… I don’t know, I’m not gonna say we can go back to where we started and just see each other when one of us is horny, because I don’t want that, not anymore, not with you. Because I-I… appreciate you too much and it won’t work and… No, I don’t want that. There’s the other option, though…”

    Brendon’s saying too many things and Ryan’s listening, but he’s also listening to the things he’s not saying, to what he himself has thought between all the things that has crossed his mind. Maybe what happened today won’t go farther and this will be just some story about the time he overreacted, but Brendon’s right, none of them can assure it won’t happen in the future. Now it’s been a party in some friend’s house, the next time could be a photographer hiding and watching them kiss when Ryan leaves Brendon home.

    Ryan should have notice before this was getting out of hand, and not now, when he doesn’t want to look for Brendon just when he’s in the mood for fucking, either. To do that he has all of those nameless girls and guys he always had. Until Brendon. Brendon’s not that to Ryan, he’s not someone to have fun with and relieve himself. Brendon is so much more than that. He’s someone which whom Ryan has shared things he hasn’t shared with anyone else. He’s different. He’s totally different. And that’s the problem.

    “You think we should stop,” he says, and it’s not a question but a statement, and his voice sounds less stable than he would have liked, his eyes fixed on his own hands while he picks at the crease of his jeans on his knee.

    “I think that, if you don’t want this to happen again, that’s the only way,” says Brendon with a low voice, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s fingers over his jeans. Ryan nods slowly, and something weights on his chest even if the option has occurred to him too. That doesn’t make him feel better. He’s, somehow, resigned, but there’s something else, something that makes his throat shut and his stomach feel as if he had a lead ball inside, and he’s never felt that before.

    “You’re right,” he says, swallowing without looking at Brendon. “I’d like to…” A bitter laugh comes out his throat, short and weak, before he makes a face. “I’d like to say you’re not. I’d like that none of this… But I think, I think you’re right,” he finishes, lowering his voice because he feels like his body is running out of batteries and his words are dying out. Brendon nods, rubbing his face with his hand as he does, leaving it over the lips that he keeps torturing with bites, sighing hard and nodding again.

    “Okay. Then… Okay, okay,” he says, his voice muffled by his hand, breathing hard through his nose and huffing before covering his face with both hands for a second, running them through his hair and nodding once more. Ryan raises his look at him and regrets it the moment he sets his eyes on Brendon because, if he felt before as if he had swallowed a lead ball, now it feels like he’s swallowed all of the existing lead in the surface of the Earth, all of his organs falling heavy to his feet.

    He looks at Brendon for a while, watching every little detail, every curve. He doesn’t know what his brain is doing until he realizes he’s storing every little inch of Brendon in his memory, as if he wouldn’t be able to observing him this much and this close ever more. It’s probably true. And just now Ryan understands how close he was of knowing something he’d never known, and knowing it with Brendon.

    “It’s sad, don’t you think?” He says, and his voice sounds weird. Hoarse, far away, strangled. He lowers his gaze again, gathering all the information in his memory, making sure he’s learned Brendon by heart. “Not being able to be with the person you… To have this. Just because I am who I am,” he says, smiling sad when he remembers Spencer’s words.

    “Ryan, please,” Brendon laughs with a choked up voice, blinking fast and leaning in to take his glass and drink all of the water that was left, huffing when he leaves it down again. He rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking his head and laughing nervous again. “I’m trying to keep my composure here, and you’re not making it easy.”

    Ryan nods but doesn’t look at him because he doesn’t think he would be able to do it. He raises his head to look around, to the room filled up with silence, the table in front of him, the poor decoration. He can hear the neighbors arguing, a faucet leaking. He nods again and reaches for the glass Brendon left for him on the table before, still intact, drinking a couple of short sips, enough to force his throat to keep working and say the words he needs to say.

    “I’d better go now,” he says, and he has to gather all of his strength to get up the couch and walk to the door, looking at Brendon out of the corner of his eye because he wouldn’t keep walking if he looks at him straight in the eyes.

    Brendon gets up with him, walking him to the door but not too close, leaning in the wall. He doesn’t say a thing, just stays there waiting for Ryan to be the one that moves his hand to turn the doorknob, the one that opens the door, the one who leaves.

    “Will you kiss me?” Ryan hear him ask suddenly, with a hurried voice, as if he were fighting to say it, or not to. “The last one, before you leave,” he adds, and it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about Ryan leaving the house. Ryan looks at him startled and, truth to be told, it doesn’t seem like one of his best ideas, but he finds himself moving to get closer to Brendon because, good idea or not, his body is screaming him to do it.

    He stops inches away from Brendon, so close he can feel the heat he radiates. Ryan remembers how this very morning he had that heat right against his, skin against skin, tangled under his bed sheets, and he closes his eyes not to see how his hand shakes lightly when he puts it on Brendon’s cheek and joins their foreheads, breathing, inhaling Brendon’s scent when it hits him. He doesn’t know if he waits a few seconds or if he kisses him right away, but in his head it feels like a slow motion, the movement of his lips against Brendon’s, his taste invading his tongue, the electric whirlwind that he usually feels now coming with something else, something desperate.

    Brendon breathes ragged against his lips, raising his arms to tangle them around Ryan’s neck, holding him as tight as he can, stopping Ryan from getting away too much, or from getting away at all. He deeps his fingers in Ryan’s hair and scratches him weakly, more a needy gesture than a primitive one, as if he wanted to keep something from Ryan, something invisible. He lets his forehead rest against Ryan’s when he breaks the kiss to breath some air, closing his eyes shut and filling up his lungs a couple of times before he takes his arms away, slowly, as if he was tearing them apart from Ryan. Ryan resists the impulse of following him and, just like that, he lets Brendon go.

    “Goodbye, Bren,” he murmurs, reaching for the doorknob to open the door and get out of that house, licking his lips and swallowing with the sensation of Brendon’s still on them, his taste still in his mouth, and the effects of having him so close still on his body. In regards to kisses, Ryan truly believes this is the most sincere they’ve ever shared.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Blow a Tire

 

 

 

9.

 

“I’m hooked.” It’s the first thing Ryan says when Spencer opens the door, confused because of how late it is. “And fucked.” He adds, and his voice breaks a little there, making him huff. “Hooked, fucked and, not so surprisingly, alone.”

Spencer looks at him with his eyes half open, a little squinted because of the light, blinking as if he were having a hard time trying to understand what Ryan’s saying and why his friend is at his door in the middle of the night without a warning. It looks like he doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, or at least his face doesn’t show it, but he opens the door wider anyway, resting one hand on Ryan’s shoulder and pulling him inside before he closes it.

They walk together inside the house, Spencer yawning and dragging his feet on the floor, pointing to the couch in the living room for Ryan to sit there. He turns the lights on and makes a gesture for Ryan to wait a second. When he comes back, after a while, he brings two hot mugs in his hands and the same sleepy face, even though his eyes are more awake.

“Take this,” he says with his voice hoarse, clearing his throat when he notices, and sitting next to Ryan, giving one mug to him. Ryan sees there’s tea or some kind of infusion in it.

He watches the liquid closely and his stomach protests because he hasn’t felt anything but that weight inside his body and the way his throat closes every now and then since he left Brendon’s house, making him tighten his jaw and swallow loudly. Ryan keeps the mug in his hand but at first he doesn’t drink because he feels like everything he’ll drink will come back out. Spencer does drink, making a sound with his throat, almost a sigh, wrapping the mug with his hands to feel the heat and leaving it on the table later, rubbing his hands together.

“I guess this has to do with Brendon,” Spencer says, and it’s the first time since Brendon came to cover for Cassie, months ago, that Ryan has heard him call Brendon by his name. Not Urie. Not ‘the physio’. He doesn’t know if that makes it all better or worse.

“We stopped. Whatever we were…” He makes a gesture with his hand to try and explain what he had with Brendon. “It’s over.”

“Ryan…” Spencer sighs his name sadly, rubbing his face with his hand before he rests it on Ryan’s shoulder, squeezing and leaving it there. “Was there a reason…? Did something bad happen?”

Ryan laughs and thinks that it’s a good question. A great question.

“Yeah. Yes, this fucking country and its mentality, that’s what happened,” he says, bringing the mug to his lips and taking a long sip just to hide the way his bottom lip trembles a little. He just lowers down the mug when he thinks he has it under control, huffing and shaking his head. “Cassie… Cassie figured it out and I. I freaked out. And we talked and everything is good with Cassie, but,” he shrugs, watching the liquid dance when he moves the mug in small circles. “Well, we agreed it’s the best for us not taking risks.”

“Maybe I’m rushing here,” says Spencer, looking at Ryan and twisting his lips, “but you don’t even seem to agree with yourself, so I find it hard to believe you two agree on that. On it being the best thing. The most convenient? Of course. But, seeing you, it doesn’t seem to be… the _best_.”

“And where does that leave us?” Ryan asks, clearing his throat a little and drinking again so his voice comes out firmer. “It’s not like we have a lot of options.”

Spencer looks at him without saying anything, taking his mug again and playing with the thread of the tea bag automatically. He drinks without taking his eyes off Ryan, probably thinking about what to say to that. It’s not a hard question to answer, it’s just hard to put it into words.

“It’s complicated,” he says when he speaks, and he doesn’t say anything Ryan doesn’t already know. “You… How much…? When you say you’re hooked… How much?”

Ryan looks at him, raising his gaze from the mug and turning his head until his eyes find his friend’s, the blue fixing on them, cautious but as firm as Spencer always is, with the same confidence he plays. Like there wasn’t room for mistakes.

“I don’t…” Ryan starts, thinking about the question. The only thing he knows is that he has never felt what he feels for Brendon, and that right now he feels like someone had gotten inside his body while he slept and took out everything until leaving him empty and still with a constant weight, like he was carrying shackles. “I don’t know, I’ve never… It’s. I don’t know, Spence. But a lot, I guess. Enough for, for me to feel right now like they took something from me, something _mine_. Something they shouldn’t have taken.”

“Fuck. Fucking shit.” Spencer groans bringing his hands to his face, sounding as if Ryan just said he has a deadly illness, something incurable. “Ryan, you’ve fallen in love with him,” he says when he looks at Ryan again, and in his eyes there isn’t as much surprise as Ryan would expect. There’s more compassion, almost pity. Ryan looks back at him like he didn’t speak the same language. “What did you two do?”

Ryan opens his mouth, but he closes it before any sound comes out. He opens it again just to close it once more. His throat closes forcing him to swallow but it doesn’t seem to work a lot because he still feels like someone is gripping his neck and leaving him breathless. He looks at Spencer and thinks about what he just said, and he thinks about Brendon and how leaving his house was probably the hardest thing he’s done in his life. Ryan falls back on the couch with a huff, bringing the mug to his mouth and taking three long sips, shaking his head, not because he’s going to contradict Spencer but because he can’t believe he didn’t realize before.

“Spence…” He says, and he hears himself far away, like he weren’t in that room at all. And he can feel, as he can hear, the tone of being totally lost where he is right now. Spencer moves on the couch, getting closer to him and removing the mug from his hands carefully, leaving it on the table.

“Hey, listen to me. It’s… It’s a bummer, okay? But…” He moves his head. Probably looking for words that he doesn’t find to finish what he started to say. “Did you two…? I mean… Fuck, he’s the team physiotherapist. You are going to see him everyday. How…? Are you gonna keep being friends or…?”

“I guess… I, I don’t know,” Ryan says, sighing and twisting his hands on his lap. “We didn’t… we just agreed on stopping. That’s all. It’s not like we had a fight, I mean, I, I’m not going to stop talking to him and act like he doesn’t exist, it’s.” He laughs, shaking his head and taking a breath just to let it out, looking at Spencer resigned. “It’s not like I could, either… I’m in trouble, right?”

“You have to get him out of your head. Out of your system. You have to…” Spencer moves his hands, trying to explain himself, bringing them to his face to rub it. “I need a beer. Do you want a beer? I’m going to… yeah. Be right back.”

“You have something stronger?” Ryan asks, looking at his friend with a resigned face. “I could use a whisky. Or two.” ~~~~

Spencer nods as he stands up, grabbing his mug from the table and drinking it in one go, walking towards one cabinet in the living room and opening it. He looks around, searching through the bottles there, most of them presents because of the matches and things like that. He ends up grabbing one with a long and complicated name that Ryan’s never drank before, but he doesn’t have any problem to do it now.

“It’s Scotch.” Spencer says when he sits down, removing the bottle’s seal and opening it. “Someone gave it to me before I signed up for the Hounds, I haven’t opened it because this is the whisky with that legend ‘one sip and you live forever; two sips and you go blind; three sips and you expire on the spot.’ Given the circumstances…” He grabs his mug and takes the little bag out, leaving it on the table and doing the same thing with Ryan’s without caring about the tea still in it, filling them both to the middle of the mug, “I think you could use expiring a little right now.”

Ryan makes a sound with his throat as he brings the mug to his mouth and takes a sip, grimacing when the alcohol burns his way into his body and shaking his head then, licking his lips.

“Woah…” He says, looking at the liquid and clearing his throat. “I think you’re gonna leave that bottle here for me…” He says, laughing bitterly before he takes two long sips more, finishing what was left in the mug. Spencer looks at him and shuts his eyes close because he takes a sip too, staring at Ryan then and the bottle, nodding and pushing the bottle towards Ryan on the table.

“All yours,” he says, taking another sip and clearing his throat. “Fuck, this should be in a first-aid kit, not my cabinet.”

Ryan pours more drink in his mug, almost half of it, leaving the bottle on the table again and bringing the mug to his lips. This time he takes a short sip and gets comfortable on the couch, sliding down a little on his seat and resting his head on the back with his eyes closed. He can’t help it, the only thing that crosses his head and he sees behind his eyelids is Brendon that morning before they left his house and everything went to hell. He sees Brendon smiling at him and humming some ABBA song as he walked in the room, throwing a pillow at Ryan when he laughed. He does it now, too, laugh, as he drinks whiskey again.

“Did you know that the first time I went to his office he was singing ‘Frozen’?” He says, laughing more and repeating ‘Frozen’ again, as if after all this time he still couldn’t believe it. There are a lot of things about Brendon he can’t believe.

“I’m not surprised.” Spencer answers, nodding and talking with that tone people use when someone just died. “It’s a… peculiar guy.”

“He’s…” Ryan swallows, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on the mug, shaking his head because that word can’t describe everything that Brendon is. “In my fucking life, Spencer… In my whole life I have met someone so…” He pauses, looking for the right word, drinking more, huffing when he’s unable to find anything to say. “Indescribable.” He finishes. Spencer blinks as he looks at Ryan and turns his head, bringing the mug to his lips to take a sip, clearing his throat then.

“If you’re going to, um… If you’re going to get him out of you head, the best thing is to do it as soon as possible,” Spencer says, looking at Ryan sideways and moving the liquid in his mug. “He will do the same, for sure, to try to move on. And it’s easier for him, you know, he’s… well, he’s used to not hiding and he has his family and his friends and…” Spencer clears his throat again. “What I mean is that he probably has a head-start on you with moving on from something like this, so you should start as soon as you can. Going out, looking for… people, guys, girls, whatever. Going back to be the Ryan you were before.”

Ryan wants to argue with Spencer about that in so many ways, and he wants to ask him how does that work, how do you look and touch another person without thinking about the one you really want to look at and touch. He guesses it’s easy for Spencer to say because no one is asking him to forget Linda with other women. But Ryan doesn’t feel strong enough to tell him everything that’s wrong with his reasoning, so he just nods and drinks what’s left in his mug, starting to feel the effect of the whisky in his system, leaning forward on the couch to fill up his mug again.

The truth is he doesn’t know what Brendon’s doing right now, if he’s alone at home, if he called Cassie, if he’s thinking about him the same way Ryan is thinking about Brendon. He doesn’t tell Spencer he doubts Brendon is trying to forget him with another guy because he doesn’t know if he really thinks that or if he prefers not to think about it. He wants to believe he knows Brendon enough to be sure he’s not looking in another place what yesterday at this hour was having with Ryan.

“You can go to bed, Spencer,” he says with his voice broken, and his eyes get blurred looking at the gold liquid in his mug. “I’m sorry about waking you up so late,” he adds, murmuring, and he doesn’t know if he really articulated so poorly or if his ears aren’t working properly. He brings the mug to his lips again and every time he does the whisky tastes and burns less and less, or maybe it’s him who feels less.

“Don’t be an idiot, come on, Ryan.” Spencer huffs, leaving his mug on the table and getting closer to put his arm over Ryan’s shoulders. “Listen, if you want… If you need to cry about it, it’s okay, you hear me? Sometimes… Sometimes it’s the best you can do,” he says, patting his back and squeezing a little, not pulling him in for a hug but letting him know he can do it if he wants, if Ryan needs it. Ryan finishes all the whisky in his mug in one go, feeling dizzy when he leans in to leave it on the table, and he has to try two times because he almost drops it the first.

“I haven’t expired yet,” he says, looking at the bottle like it was guilty for everything that’s happening. “And I’ve taken more than three sips. It’s a lie, Spencer. Everything’s a lie,” he complaints looking at his friend, and two tears slide down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “It’s not true,” he murmurs.

Spencer grunts and pulls him in, wrapping Ryan with his arms and squeezing hard, somehow rudely, familiar, like Spencer is. He hugs him like he were doing some wrestling hold on him, leaving him trapped and murmuring some comforting words that sound like nothing because maybe he’s just murmuring without saying anything. Spencer was never good with words, but he’s the best trying. Ryan holds on him with his fists tight and his body tense, letting his system release all it has inside in sobs, wrapping him and holding on him like he did when he was a ten year old kid that missed his mom.

“It’s going to get better, I promise,” Spencer says, patting his back without letting him go. “No one dies of a broken heart, as much as it hurts. You just have to let time go by,” he assures, drawing back a little to look at Ryan. “Do you remember Haley? Do you remember how I was even on the phone? And you didn’t see me in person. I swear I thought I was never going to recover when we broke up, and look at me now, I’m going to get engaged, Ryan. Things always get better. Sooner or later.”

Ryan nods even though Spencer words aren’t sinking into his mind. He listens to him, but it is like everything he’s saying right now just wasn’t entering ~~in~~ his head. As if his brain was too busy thinking about how much it hurts and how things could be different to waste time paying attention to his best friend’s words. He falls back on the couch, looking at the bottle and tempted to keep drinking but with no strength to lean forward and pour some more in the mug. His breath is uneven and his chest shakes from time to time. If he wasn’t so dazed, he could feel some tears on his face too.

Spencer’s arm, trapped between Ryan’s back and the couch, moves until he gets his hand under one of Ryan’s arms, starting to move and pulling him, handling him like he was more a rag doll than a person. Spencer pull on him, standing up and forcing Ryan to do the same, using his other hand to move away the whisky bottle, like he wanted to prevent Ryan to grab it now that he’s closer.

“Come on, sleep time. We’re not going to fix anything staying up feeling sorry,” Spencer says, walking with Ryan’s weight on him. “You need to rest, Ryan.”

Now that he’s standing, everything moves around him and Ryan closes his eyes to try and make it stop but it just makes it worse. He feels like there’s no safe place where he can put his feet on, like the floor is going to disappear any moment now, making him fall into the void.

“What I need is Brendon,” he murmurs, dragging his words out of his mouth almost impossible to understand. He walks resting his weight on Spencer but reaching out with his arm to hold on the wall, blinking to try and focus his eyes with no success.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else, just walks with him slowly, stopping when Ryan seems to stumble a little and going back to walk when he recovers. They walk all the way to the nearest guest room, and Spencer pulls at the sheets with one hand before he lets Ryan fall on the mattress, who’s murmuring non-stop.

“Sleep,” Spencer says as he takes Ryan’s shoes off and leaves them somewhere on the floor, covering him with the quilt. “You’ll see everything better tomorrow. Or so I hope,” he adds, going to the window so he can put the shutters down, walking towards Ryan then and resting his hand on his shoulder for a second before he murmurs a ‘good night’ and gets out of there, closing the door behind him. Ryan wants to tell him that he’s not going to be able to sleep because he can’t stop thinking, but the room moves too much and his muscles weight more than usual and, before he can raise his voice to call for Spencer, his body decides to give up and sleep, more restless than it was expected.

 

*

 

Ryan didn’t think that there would be a time in his life when he didn’t want to go to practice, that the skates would weight in his hand and the kit in the bag, that his fingers would stumble as he buttons his pads and Bob orders would grind in his ears instead of being a shot of adrenaline and make him want to give everything he has. Playing had never been a job for Ryan, hockey was never an obligation. Now, as the puck slips from his stick stupidly, as he doesn’t stop fast enough and he runs over a cone, as the helmet irritates him and the gloves too, and the fucking stick seems too big or too small for his hands, Ryan feels that playing is something he _has_ to do.

Spencer looks at him every now and then, and Ryan is thankful it’s not a dirty look like the one’s Bob is giving him, but he doesn’t know if he has to be thankful too for knowing why Spencer does it. Ryan left Spencer’s house yesterday when it was already getting dark, unable to leave with the sunlight piercing his eyes, any sound making his neurons tremble. Spencer didn’t say anything and Ryan preferred it that way. It’s stupid to talk about something that hasn’t got a solution anyway.

He has seen Brendon. Not during a long time, just passing by, almost. He was with the whole team in the physiotherapy room for a few minutes, talking about their routine before everyone knew what to do and how to do it. Then he left because they are professionals, they do this every year and they know how to do this, they don’t need a trainer with them constantly. He said they could go look for him or call him if there was any doubt, if they needed anything, he would be in his office. Ryan needed something from him, but he’s sure Brendon didn’t mean it like that.

A strange and small smile, that’s all Brendon gave him when he entered the room, the only distinctive and exclusive gesture for him, nothing compared with the big smiles, the effusiveness and the way Ryan is used to hear his name coming from Brendon, like it was the best combination of letters that has ever existed. Actually, he does everything like that, everything that was exuberant and energetic before, now is… small and strange. Even the guys feel it, how Brendon seems duller, more distant and more _professional_. It reminds Ryan of that second meeting in his office, the first time Brendon checked him up, that strange attempt to be what he supposed Ryan wanted him to be.

“Ross, I need to talk to you,” Bob says right after they finish practice, and Ryan feels Spencer’s hand patting his back, encouraging him, he guesses. He just nods and follows Bob to his office when he takes off the skates, not even bothering with the pads, just changing the skates for sneakers.

He knows very well what Bob is going to tell him, that his practice was awful, that he can’t fail now, that what the hell is wrong with him. He gets in and sits on the chair in front of Bob’s desk, waiting for him to start without saying anything, with his eyes fixed on his own lap.

“What happened?” Bob asks, looking at him like he didn’t understand anything. “I want you to tell me what happened out there because I have no idea.”

“I’m sorry.” Ryan apologizes, swallowing without looking at Bob. “It won’t happen again, boss. It’s just… a bad day.”

“A bad day? Ryan, I haven’t seen you play that bad since… never!” Bob replies and his voice sounds more surprised than angry. “That doesn’t happen because of a bad day, that happens because of a fucking shitty one, that happens because of a day so, so fucking bad it made you forget ten years of practice. And if you tell me it won’t happen again I want to believe you, but what I saw out there, Ryan…” Bob shakes his head no, clicking his tongue. “Did anything happen that I should know about? Family? Love? Anything that’s going to affect you during the next matches? Because you have to tell me. You have to tell me if I have to get you out. We’re going to get through this round already, Ryan. I can’t have you playing the playoffs like that.”

“You can’t put me aside, Bob,” Ryan says, and it’s more a plea than anything else, the panic and rage filling up his stomach, making him shake his head frantic. He can’t lose this too; it’s the only thing he has left. “I’ve worked a lot to be here, it-it’s not fair, just… it was just today. I swear. It won’t happen again. Please.” He hurries to add, looking at Bob with huge eyes and leaning in the chair needing to convince his coach.

Bob looks at him in silence, like he was deciding if he gives Ryan a vote of confidence or not, if he pretends to believe him or takes measures before everything gets worse. It takes seconds, probably, but it feels like years before Bob speaks again.

“I want you at one hundred per cent tomorrow, got it?” He says, making a gesture with his hand. “Come on, get out of here. You have physio and Brendon complains if I make you stay until too late.”

Ryan raises his eyes as he listens to him and is going to asks him if he’s heard good when he remembers where they are on the season, that now everyone goes to the physio with no exception. There was a reason they had to see Brendon before practice. He suppress a grimace because Bob is still looking at him like he didn’t understand what happens to him and he just nods, getting up and going towards the door to get out of the office.

He lets out a puff of air when he’s in the corridor, bringing his hands to his face and rubbing it. Bob was right. Ryan doesn’t even want to think about his coach putting him aside from the competition but, if he keeps playing like he’s done today, it wouldn’t be strange if he does. Ryan can admit he’d do the same thing in Bob’s place. He tried to keep focused with all his strength, but it’s like suddenly his head couldn’t pay attention to the ice and made him clumsy with the stick. It can’t happen again. Ryan is risking a lot here.

He goes to the locker room so he can take his protections off and take a shower. Most of the guys are there already, Spencer too, who brought Ryan’s bag. Ryan nods to him as a thank you and begins to remove his clothes, not saying anything. The guys keep going out of the locker room, they have to go to Brendon’s office in alphabetical order and Ryan knows that gives him some time to wait that he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. It’s not like he has to wait for long, some of them doesn’t even last ten minutes. It’s what happens when you only need .

When Peterson sticks his head in the locker room and shouts a ‘Ross, your turn’, Ryan is already sitting on the bench below his locker, completely dressed and practicing his best face to get through what he knows are going to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life in that office. He gets up and gathers his things to go there, walking with slower steps than usual to lengthen the way without success because, before he remembers how to breathe calmly, he’s already at the office’s door and he doesn’t even have the last seconds because it’s totally open.

“Hey, come on in. Close the door, will you?” Brendon’s voice gets to him before he sees his face, the glasses and the hair covering it because he’s facing the surface of the table, writing something. When he looks up and pushes his hair out of his face, he smiles soft, a bit more than this morning but still not being the Brendon he was before. “I have to check your thigh, so…” He says, pointing at Ryan’s clothes. Ryan nods and leaves the bag aside, closing the door and going to the stretcher, his back facing Brendon as he takes off his jeans.

It is awkward, precisely now, taking off his clothes in that office with Brendon there. And it’s even more awkward feeling like this after everything they’ve shared. Ryan breathes deeply, filling his lugs quietly and letting the air out before he turns around and gets on the stretcher, waiting.

Brendon stands up and goes towards Ryan rubbing his hands to get them warm, like he has done all those times, before he put them on Ryan’s skin. Now he stays still, without touching him, looking at him with a weird face.

“I need you to… I mean, the check-up is full-body. You have to…” He says, making a gesture to point at the upper half of Ryan’s body, at the clothes he’s still wearing.

“Oh. Right, yeah,” Ryan says, pulling at his shirt to take it off over his head, leaving it aside and looking at Brendon, trying to smile small. “I’m sorry.” It seemed like he was going to apologize today more than he has even done in his life.

“Don’t worry. Lie down and relax. I’m going to… yeah,” Brendon says, waiting for Ryan to move on the stretcher to get closer, hesitating a little before he gets his hands over one of Ryan’s knees, starting to move his fingers on the thigh he used to have injured.

The thing about relaxing is it’s easier said than done now that Brendon is touching him, mostly because his whole body reacts at once, like it was waiting ages for that touch. Ryan would swear he could almost _hear_ his skin sighing in relief. If he weren’t so focused in not sighing himself, he would laugh about his stupidity.

He forces himself to relax but he keeps his eyes fixed on Brendon, unable to ignore he’s the one touching him, that he’s here close to him even though he’s even farther away than he was when they first met. Ryan swallows and watches him work, staring like someone that sees a hypnotic show from the front row in a theatre but knowing you can get onstage and become part of the scene.

“Everything perfect over here,” Brendon says softly when he finishes with the thigh, starting to move over the rest of Ryan’s leg, this time faster. He touches him like if he were looking for something; he probably is, but just barely touching with the tip of his fingers. Ryan doesn’t know if it should be like that or if Brendon is trying to touch him as little as possible.

Brendon keeps going with his other leg, passing over his calves, the knee, the thigh. His hands move faster when he passes his fingers over his abs, his chest and shoulders. He doesn’t look at Ryan, not while he has him so close he can almost hear his breathing in the silence filling the office. He goes through Ryan’s arms, first one and then the other, going down to his hands, palpating the palms with his thumbs, touching his fingers.

Brendon’s voice comes out a little rough when he tells Ryan to turn over, and Ryan doesn’t know if he imagines it, but he feels him tremble when he starts to check his neck, moving down his back. Ryan doesn’t know either if Brendon can feel the way some areas of his skin stand up on end because of the touch, and a shiver runs through Ryan’s body, making him close his eyes and swallow, trying to stay relaxed. When Brendon reaches his legs again, he seems to go back to normal, as if that was a safe area, the most safe at least. He hears him sigh louder than Brendon probably would like when he finishes, when he takes his hands off him, stepping away instantly.

“We’re done,” he says and, when Ryan turns around, Brendon is already behind the desk again, with his pen in one hand and his lip between his teeth. “Go to the cold and hot pools tomorrow before you come here. I think they could do well for… Well, I felt you tense. It should help.”

“Okay,” Ryan says, nodding before he starts getting dressed, sighing quietly, relieved for it to be done. He never thought he would be relieved by the end of one session with Brendon, but having him so close and knowing he isn’t allowed to do anything that any other person would it’s almost torture. “Thank you,” he adds, just to say something more because the silence weights too much, his skin still vibrating with the feeling of Brendon’s hands on it.

“How are you?” Brendon asks then, pulling hard on his bottom lip with his teeth, looking at Ryan like he didn’t know if he’s allowed to ask that, whatever he just asked. Ryan is surprised by it and looks at him for a few seconds, blinking, not so sure about what to answer. He could be honest and tell him that, probably, it’s being one of the worst days of his life. Or he could lie.

“Well,” he starts, letting out the air and grimacing, “I’ve had better days,” he confesses, biting his lip and looking down, thinking about how it doesn’t happen every day that one realizes he’s in love with someone he just broke up with. “And you?”

“More or less the same, yeah,” Brendon nods, laughing a little through his nose, playing with the pen in his hand. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking since yesterday what I was gonna say to you when I saw you today, how I was going to…” He makes a gesture with his shoulders, looking away and letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to… I don’t want us to see each other and be strangers, you know? I don’t like it, it doesn’t… feel like the right thing, you know?”

“Yeah. Yes, I know,” Ryan answers, standing in the middle of the office, feeling like his body is too big, not knowing what to do with his hands or how to position himself. “Actually… we’re friends, right? I mean. We can… it’s. Um. We’ve been friends all this time, that, that doesn’t have to change.”

“Exactly. That’s what.” Brendon nods, moving his hands. “That’s it. I want to keep… I want.” He keeps nodding, looking down a little and frowning. “I want you to stay in my life, however it is. Just… well,” he shrugs, smiling a little, “it’s like I’ve forgotten a bit, how to be your friend, just a friend and… But I just have to remember it. And that’s. That’s all,” he says, nodding fast as he looks at Ryan, looking for support.

“I get it,” Ryan says, thinking how can someone be friends with a person he loves, how do people keep being friends with someone they still have feelings for. But he wants to do it, too, whatever it takes. “It might… it might take some days. Or something, but. Yeah. We can, we can be friends.” He nods, and something in his body tells him that being friends is not enough, that he doesn’t want that. Ryan knows, but if that’s all he can get, he’ll take it.

“Yeah. I mean, it can’t be that hard, right? There are couples who do it and it’s not like you and me…” The words get stuck in his throat and he coughs, apologizing and clearing his throat, his face turning red, maybe because of the effort, or maybe not. “I mean, we weren’t even… you know. It should… It should be easier.”

“Yeah…” Ryan says, looking down and frowning, unable to control his face because Brendon’s words feel strange inside him, as if they were twisting his guts. “Yes, of course. Easy.” He nods, his eyes fixed on his sneakers. He swallows and clears his throat, starting to walk and talk at the same time, with more urgency than he thought because suddenly he feels he has to get out of here. “Well, I’m… you have, um. There are still guys waiting and… it, it’ll be better for me to go and let you finish. So you don’t finish too late. And. Yeah.”

“Okay. Yes, okay. Tell Spencer to… to come in.” Brendon nods, taking his eyes back to the papers on the desk, tearing his gaze from Ryan.

“Okay,” Ryan repeats, softer, nodding and looking at Brendon for a few seconds more before he takes his bag and opens the door. He’s about to get out when he remembers something, stopping dead on his tracks and tightening his jaw before he turns around again. “Um. Do you want to…? I can. I can wait if you need me to… drive you home. If you want.” Ryan doesn’t know if it’s a good idea getting in a car with Brendon for almost an hour, given the circumstances, but he didn’t think until that moment he was the ride for Brendon not to depend on the L. He doesn’t want what happened between them to be the reason he stops.

“Oh.” Brendon raises his head again, as if he didn’t expect that question. He stares at Ryan in silence for a few seconds, shaking his head no softly then. “Don’t… don’t worry. It’s normal you want to get home fast and…” He makes a gesture with his hand, playing it down. “Anyway, Jacky. You remember Jacky? I wanted to hang out with him before he leaves Chicago, so he’s gonna pick me up to go have a drink, talk, you know.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, feeling something twisting his guts, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Right. Jacky,” he repeats, the name feeling heavy in his mouth, as if every letter got stuck and it had to fight to get out. “Okay.” He nods, turning around again and starting to leave.

He goes to the locker room and tells Spencer he can go in, telling him he’ll wait outside. The stadium is almost empty already, so the corridors are clear as Ryan goes out to the parking lot, the only sound he can hear it’s his steps’ echo resounding on the walls. It’s cold outside and Ryan shrinks inside his jacket when he sits on the stadium stairs and leaves his bag next to him, waiting for Spencer. He puts his hands in his pockets and look up at the sky, totally clear, making the cold more intense.

It hasn’t been long, or maybe it has, time was always a weird concept to Ryan and now more than ever, when he sees a car he doesn’t recognize entering the parking lot and stopping. Ryan frowns and keeps watching, confused because someone is getting to the stadium at this time. It’s not until the driver gets out of the car and gets closer that Ryan recognizes Jacky with his trendy clothes and his photo-shoot-ready hair. Jacky greets him when he sees Ryan, raising his hand and smiling as he did at the party. He changes his way and walks towards Ryan, rubbing his hands together and opening his lips, a puff of steam getting out through them.

“I hate Chicago’s cold,” he says when he gets where Ryan is. “I don’t know how Brendon can live here. I wouldn’t last a month.”

“You get used to it over time,” Ryan answers, looking around, anywhere but at Jacky, is tone unaffected. It’s not that he wants to be rude, it’s just that he’s the last person Ryan wants to talk to in this moment. Even less if it is about Brendon. Jacky makes a sound with his throat, shifting.

“I guess. I hope, at least,” he says, moving more, getting a little away from Ryan. “I talked to Brendon about meeting here, out of his office, but I didn’t expect this to be so big,” he explains, looking up at the façade. “You know where it is, right? Would you indicate me?”

“You have to cross the whole hall and get into a corridor on the right. From there it’s all straight and the corridor makes a curve, and you’ll find a lot of doors. The one saying ‘physio’ on it,” he explains, wrinkling his cuffs in his fists, bringing his hands to his mouth and blowing on them to get them warm. “He shouldn’t take long, anyway. You can wait here,” he says and he doesn’t really want to keep having a conversation and entertaining Jacky as he waits for Brendon, he doesn’t know why he said that. Or maybe he does. Maybe Jacky staying here is better than he entering to the office. To Brendon’s office. Alone with Brendon.

“Of course, why not?” Jacky nods, getting closer to Ryan again, rubbing his arms with his hands before he takes out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Ryan before he takes one. “I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know this city. You’re coming, right?”

“No,” Ryan answers, turning down the cigarette offer and clearing his throat, looking at Jacky. “I already have plans, I’m going home with a friend, something quiet, you know. This time of season we’re not allowed to go out much and we’re going to watch movies,” he lies. Jacky nods, taking a drag.

“I see. Sportsman life, that’s good,” he says, making a face. “I’ve never been one for quietness, to be honest. In fact, I met Brendon hitchhiking,” he comments, bursting out laughing. “From Indiana to México. We had time to know each other well, it’s what’s left when you only carry a bag on your back. We wanted to go to Brazil later, but it seemed neither of us knew much about geography. It was further away than we thought, and we both had to come back, Brendon to the University and I, to work,” he explains, taking another drag and looking at Ryan. “Have you ever done something like that? Well, I guess if you’re where you are, you have played since you were a kid, no time for crazy things. That’s good, it’s good. Crazy things can go wrong. You have to be out of your mind like me or Brendon,” he adds, laughing again.

Ryan makes a sound with his throat that doesn’t mean anything, just to let Jacky know he’s not ignoring him even though he doesn’t answer. And he’s not; he’s listening to every word he says. It’s weird, talking to someone who knows about Brendon’s life before he got here, who can tell him about the adventures he’s lived because he has lived them too. Ryan knows some things about Brendon’s life, he has told him about them, but the way Jacky talks about those moments, knowing exactly what happened in that journey because he shared it with Brendon, it’s strange. Ryan can’t say he has done a lot of crazy things in his life; probably the craziest one had been falling in love with his physiotherapist.

Jacky keeps talking, telling things to Ryan, some of them he knows already and some other he doesn’t, detailing moments from that travel Ryan has seen in polaroids at Brendon’s house, trying to remember Jacky’s face in some of them but being unable to because he just looked at Brendon anytime he saw them. He’s still talking when Spencer gets out, looking at Ryan and then at Jacky, making a subtle gesture of ‘who the fuck is this?’ at Ryan before he gets closer.

“Hi,” he greets, looking at both of them before he shifts his attention exclusively to Ryan. “Are we leaving?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answers, maybe faster than it’s polite to, grabbing his bag and looking at Jacky with a small smile. “Brendon won’t take long. See you,” he says as a good bye, nodding.

“See you next time.” Jacky raises his hand with a smile, throwing the cigarette to the ground then and stepping on it before he walks inside the stadium. Ryan keeps looking at him as he goes inside, tightening his jaw and the bag handle where he has his hand, seeing Jacky’s figure disappear inside the building.

“New friend?” Spencer asks, looking at the same direction as Ryan.

“Old one,” says Ryan, imagining Brendon’s reaction when he sees Jacky coming in. Maybe it’s like the other day at the party and his whole face lightens up with a smile. The smile for Jacky would be completely honest and real, not like the ones he has shared with Ryan today, dulled and almost forced. “Although I’m not sure he’s just a friend.”

“Are you…?” Spencer frowns, looking at Ryan, making a gesture with his face as if he didn’t understand. “Well, if he makes you move on…”

Ryan makes a confused face, turning his head to look at Spencer and letting out a short laugh when he realizes his best friend got it all wrong. He shakes his head no and sighs, looking at the stadium again before he turns around.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” he says, smiling small and looking down. Spencer looks at him for a second before he grunts just as he gets whom Ryan is talking about.

“Okay… Do you think Brendon is fucking that Abercombie model wannabe?” Spencer asks, showing his lack of feeling. Ryan grimaces, but he can’t help laughing a little because of Spencer’s description of Jacky. “I don’t know, I mean, it’s been two days. One thing is you people going faster than the rest of the people when it comes to hooking up, and another thing is…”

“I don’t know,” Ryan answers, shrugging and looking at Spencer. “They know each other since forever, they seem to have a… peculiar relationship. Maybe he makes him move on,” he says, using the same words Spencer did before. “You told me to, why isn’t he going to do the same?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Spencer nods, patting Ryan’s shoulder and starting to walk towards the car. “He didn’t seem to be up for a party, anyway. Brendon, I mean. He was weird today. Quiet. Easy to put up with, actually,” he says, laughing a little and elbowing Ryan. “Hey, maybe this was for a greater good and now I won’t have to go home with a headache when he passes by the locker ~~s~~ room.”

Ryan tries to pretend the joke is funny and laugh, but he fails. He’s tired, as if he had been all day making a superhuman effort, physically and mentally, and he doesn’t feel like pretending he’s fine with Spencer joking about that when he doesn’t really want a quiet and ‘easy to put up with’ Brendon. He wants the Brendon who knows the whole Disney repertoire and sings it during his work hours, the one who seems to have a constant excess of sugar in his body, the one who doesn’t shut up, sometimes not even sleeping.

“Let’s go,” says Ryan as he unlocks the car, throwing the bag at the back seat and closing the door. “I wanna go home.”

 

*

 

During the next weeks, Ryan puts all his efforts in hockey so he doesn’t fail again like that practice where Bob threatened him with getting him out of the games. Hockey is the only thing that has always been there for Ryan and made him shake all the shit he’s gone through off, so now it’s not going to be less. The ice is his home, the only place where his head can’t think about anything but the speed, the strategy and agility, where he can’t allow himself to think about anything but the stick in his hands and the puck on the rink.

And that is, precisely, what Ryan needs the most. To stop thinking about Brendon and to focus in what he has to do now: being at one hundred per cent for the playoffs. He practices as if every one of the sessions was the decisive game to the final round, giving his best in the ice. The days he doesn’t have practice he goes to the stadium to skate alone, improving his abilities, practicing new movements, working, working and working even more until the sweat wets his shirt and he has the hands numb inside the gloves.

He never gets home before it’s dark, just to get the dogs for a walk, have dinner, take a shower and go to bed totally exhausted, so much he almost falls asleep before he’s totally covered by the quilt. Just for his alarm to go off at five in the morning so he goes running and his day starts again. He gets into that routine easily, some days going to the gym and others bringing the dogs with him to run around the park, but every day coming back to the rink sooner or later, keeping himself busy.

Bob doesn’t say anything else about his efficiency because now he’s giving all he has, but Ryan knows he’s watching him and that he thinks there’s something wrong. Ryan’s game has become more aggressive, more brutal, when he always was characterized by his agility and ease to evade the rival and steal the puck in quick movements, not using the impact. Spencer lets him know he has noticed too, but Ryan just shrugs and says he’s practicing another way to play because he doesn’t have to do the same with every team. So his practices become more physical, ruder, making him get more tired and fall on the bed so exhausted he doesn’t have time to think about it being too big and empty.

Brendon doesn’t talk to him a lot, not after the first times. At first he tried to make things like before, return to normal, talking to Ryan until the conversation died after two or three sentences. It’s not the same normalizing than being normal, and the atmosphere between them was awkward, unpleasant, out of time. It didn’t last to decline, because neither Brendon or him, or anyone, is able to wear that façade during much time without exploding. The sessions got shorter too, and Ryan went from being there the whole fifteen minutes to being the fastest in finishing. It’s not like Brendon does a lot with him, physically talking. Ryan knows, he knows Brendon is not checking him up like he does to the rest of the guys, that he just uses the machines sometimes and gives him instructions or tells him to swim a little, but he’s not going to say anything about it.

Brendon does ask, he always does, if Ryan feels okay, if he’s in pain somewhere, if he feels too tense. All those things Brendon could know just touching him, he prefers to ask about them, trust Ryan’s words even if he knows Ryan has history waiting until there’s no solution, and not just when it comes to his health. Sometimes Ryan tells him he feels a little tense here and there, little things he knows don’t require a lot, just because it would be too suspicious if he were perfectly okay given the intensity of the matches. Brendon puts heat on him, uses infrared or microwave frequency and nothing else. The most Brendon’s fingers get close to Ryan is to stick and remove the adhesive patches. Ryan gets it, he gets it because it’s easier for him too when Brendon’s not touching him, even though he misses any touch desperately, as small as it could be.

The next game is the last one before the playoffs and the Hounds are already classified, even though everyone is excited about playing anyway and celebrating properly, because Bob didn’t let them before. The day of the game they all have to go to the stadium in the morning for a check-up. Patrick is doing a million tests, tension, platelet levels and antidrug, which makes everyone laugh at Derek as they see him tremble in fear as always. Elisa gets to them before they can take a breath and brings them to the group session room, from where they come out a lot better than Patrick left them.

Ryan is walking out the room when Elisa stops him, telling him to wait a moment. He doesn’t know her that well, he has never had an individual session with her because Ryan barely lacks of motivation, so he’s not sure how to deal with her or what it’s wrong for her to want to talk to him. It doesn’t surprise him, though, when she comments she’s seen a sudden change on the rink, that he seems to be letting out his frustration on the ice and she doesn’t think he’s playing healthy.

“You know I’m here for whatever you need, right? Not just to talk about things related to hockey,” she says, staring at Ryan that way psychologist do that seems like they already know what you’re gonna say and why. “Whatever is happening, Ryan, you can talk to me. I’m here to help you.”

“Thank you, Elisa,” says Ryan, forcing a small smile and nodding, “but I’m fine. Really. I’m just playing different, that’s all.”

“Come to see me when you’re ready,” answers the girl, as if what Ryan just said would have gone unheard. Ryan watches her closely, biting his lip, and nods because it’s stupid to try and keep pretending.

He keeps going to the gym, his next stop, walking down the corridor. He has his eyes fixed on his own steps and thinking about whatever, so he doesn’t hear the door opening or the laugh following right behind, just stops on his tracks when he sees another pair of feet in front of him and he has to stop not to stumble on them. When Ryan raises his eyes up, the rest of his body freezes and he takes a bit to react, blinking to get his surprise away.

“Jacky,” he says, more out of surprise than as a greeting, looking past his shoulder to see that, for sure, Jacky is walking out of Brendon’s office, and tensing a little. “W-what are you doing here?” He asks, and he doesn’t want to be rude but he isn’t sure if he successes.

“Oh, what’s up, Ryan?” Jacky greets him, looking at him without the good vibes Ryan has always seen on him. It’s not that he’s rude or serious, just calm, more formal than he has ever been. “I’m not really doing anything. Cassie told me Brendon was here even though he wasn’t supposed to, yet. That he was preparing something. I guessed he just didn’t want to be home alone, you know how he is with…” He makes a gesture with his hands, shrugging. “So I was going to tell him to come with me to look for an apartment. It seems like I’m gonna stay here for longer than I thought, and I guessed that would help him clear his mind a little, too. But it seems you guys have something important, a final game or something, right?” Jacky makes a face, getting his hand in his pocket and looking at what seems to be a ticket to the match, reading. “Yeah, that’s it. He gave me this to compensate for the trouble. As if it was trouble… Well. I’m not much of a hockey guy, but it looks like Brendon is really interested on it now, so I’ll come with him to see you guys tonight. Good luck and all that, even though you’re already classified, I think,” he says, making a gesture with the ticket before he puts it back in his pocket.

“Yeah. Yes, we are already…” Ryan doesn’t finish the sentence, stuck in what Jacky said about staying there. Given he’s going to go to the match with Brendon even though he doesn’t like hockey and it’s not trouble for him to come here for nothing, Ryan starts to understand why. “You already got used to Chicago’s cold, then?” He asks, more defensive than he intended to at first.

“Honestly, no,” Jacky answers, laughing a little, although not too much. “But well, I hope I find an apartment soon and leave the motel I’m in. I’m sure it’ll have a better heating system. I’ll probably tell Brendon to move with me, I’m not going to leave him living in that shit hole if we two can afford something better, you know? Closer to here too, those things.”

“Right,” Ryan answers, and the confusion he felt knowing Jacky was staying in a motel vanishes when he says he’s going to tell Brendon to share an apartment. Everything inside him burns and his guts twist as if he were trying to wring himself out, as he swallows over and over again so his voice comes out firm. “Well, um. Good luck with the searching,” he says, not interested in listening more things about his plans for him and Brendon. He’s tired of wondering what’s exactly going on between them, of always doubting when he thinks he has the answer. If Ryan was looking for something to clarify it, he already found it. He doesn’t need to know more.

Jacky answers with a short thank you and it seems both of them are more interested in keeping going their ways in opposite directions instead of keeping talking. Now it seems to make more sense why Jacky wasn’t so happy to see him like any other time. If he’s with Brendon, then is not strange he knows what they had, that Brendon told him and now Jacky is celebrating behind him that Ryan left the way clear for him to reach Brendon.

He isn’t going to think about that. No, because it doesn’t matter thinking about how things could have been different and maybe, just maybe, now he would be the one thinking about asking Brendon to come live with him in his house, where the dogs miss him and the house seems less lively. It makes no sense to think about it because things could not be different, just like they are, no matter how many times Ryan thinks about it.

Anyway, it’s not like Ryan knew for sure that Brendon would have been on board, if that would have happened, if things were different. Because it doesn’t look like he had a hard time ripping Ryan away from his insides like Ryan has, finding it hard to forget him, pulling and pulling from him just to get Brendon deeper inside him, as if his chest was made of quicksand. Brendon moved on, like Spencer said he would and like he suggested Ryan to do. Ryan would try to do the same if it wasn’t because any time he thinks about it his whole body refuses to it.

For now, what he does is keeping going his way to the gym. If he runs more time there, increases the weights and works out until he has his breath uneven and the shirt soaked in sweat it has nothing to do with the fact that he can’t get out of his head the idea of Brendon sharing his days with another person, like he has done with him.

The stadium is full that night, so much the sound can be heard from the locker ~~s~~ room, people piling in the public and occupying every one of the seats even though it isn’t a decisive match. From where they are, they focus and try for the racket not to distract them, Bob giving them the last instructions and leaving the last minutes before they get on the ice for them.

Spencer looked at Ryan sideways a couple of times, maybe because Ryan didn’t get to ease his muscles or change his serious face despite the gym hours, but he didn’t say anything, maybe because Ryan put his headphones on right after Bob finished talking, too, keeping himself apart from everything and everyone and just counting the seconds to go out.

The sound and the cheers intensify when they finally get out to the ice, the blades scratching the surface, the whole stadium vibrating with every shout and cheer. Ryan feels the adrenaline in his whole body, crawling up and running through his veins as fast as he skates. He feels something different this time, though. He feels that adrenaline overflowing; he can’t control it and focus it where he wants. He feels it slipping through him.

During the first time, Ryan barely lets any forward go past him, but the referees expulse him a couple of times because of interference, and that’s not like him, and leave the Hounds at a disadvantage. Spencer makes a gesture to him when he comes back to the rink, telling him to stick to the strategies they agreed on, skating right next to him when he can to hit him softly in his side. Their game doesn’t get affected too much, in general. The Hounds are better since the beginning and they go to the break winning, even if they’re just two goals forward.

Ryan goes back to his usual game during the first minutes of the second half, using his agility and speed more than his strength, but he doesn’t take long to come back to use his body to block the rivals. It’s not until ten minutes past the beginning of the second half when, in a harsh turn after stealing the puck, he feels a light pang in his thigh, which stays sore for a few minutes after that.

He doesn’t say anything during the next break, convinced it wasn’t a big deal, and Bob leaves him out in the bench during the first third half five minutes, given they’re still winning. The Hurricanes don’t last long to even the score, though, and Bob sends him back to the rink. Ryan comes back with the adrenaline all out, adjusting the mouth guard and grabbing the stick hard, nodding at Spencer as he goes back into the game.

The match starts again after a stop because of misconduct and Ryan goes to his position as he sees the Hurricanes’ center move forward the centerline, entering his defensive zone fast. The left winger has the puck and he moves quickly, rising his eyes up a couple of times to look at his center. Ryan sees him, sees him do it and he knows that, at any moment, he’s going to pass the puck, when the center gets away enough from Spencer, who follows him close. Ryan looks down just in time to see the stick movement and he skates to the middle of the way, intercepting the puck midway and handling it with his own stick.

He has to sidetrack and turn to the side when the Hurricanes’ center gets to him, forcing Ryan to skate back in his defensive area and preventing the pass to Spencer. Ryan crosses the goal line and skates behind the goal, looking around and trying to find some gap. It’s just a moment, a second he’s just too focused on the force he has to use to hit the puck, just the right time for the Hurricanes’ wing to get to him and hit him hard against the board, checking him.

Ryan grunts when he feels it, the sharp pain crossing his leg, making him stumble on the skates and fall to the ice as soon as the opponent player takes the puck from him. He doesn’t pay attention to anything then, he doesn’t see how they run towards the goal, he doesn’t see anything because Ryan shuts his eyes close and lets go of the stick to bring his hands to his leg, to his thigh, lying on the ice and clenching his teeth. He tries to stand up but, as soon as he moves his leg, his thigh protests and the sharp pain comes back. Ryan doesn’t want to think about what can it mean, but he knows it’s not good.

He hears how they stop the game and almost immediately there are several hands grabbing him and helping him stand, moving him. He hears Spencer’s voice before he sees him, looking at him with huge eyes as he shouts over and over again: “What’s wrong? What the fuck is wrong, Ryan?”, as if Ryan could answer right now, when the pain is spreading out and making his stomach twist, as he feels his sweat cooling down. The whole stadium is holding their breath, he hears confused murmurs and just when they start to get him off the ice in a stretcher, people start to clap and cheer and shout, encouraging Ryan.

The paramedics move fast, and Ryan can’t see much from where he is but he hears voices everywhere, people he doesn’t recognize asking for room to walk by, Bob assuring him everything’s gonna be fine, Patrick asking him how is he and what happened as he walks beside him until they get in a room and the stadium voices die down. They get him in another stretcher, better than the one they brought him in, and he sees how they start to cut his clothes because there’s no time to take them off and, if he’s heard right, is best not to take off the protections yet, just in case. Ryan stays calm during the whole process, bringing his hands to his head when he’s taken off the helmet, huffing and with just a thought in mind: he’s not going to play the playoffs.

He answers to the questions calm, assuring it’s not the bone, just his thigh, probably the muscle and nothing about his ligaments. He tells them everything, the soreness he felt at first, what exactly he felt when his leg got trapped between the board and the opponent body, how it feels when he tries to move it.

“We have to do x-ray, electro and ultrasound. I’m sorry, Ryan, it’s my duty,” Patrick says, touching his leg softly. “I’ll probably need a tomography too, so we don’t have any doubt. We can’t…”

“Ryan!” The voice comes in at the same time the door opens, the paramedics turning around surprised as Brendon rushes into the room.

“Brendon. Get out,” says Patrick, not raising his voice but more firm than Ryan has ever heard him. “Not now.”

“Patrick, please…” He hears Brendon begs as one of the paramedics uses one hand to make him step back.

“I said not now, Brendon. When I’m done,” Patrick says, looking at him until Brendon gives up and lets himself be guided to the door, disappearing behind it. Patrick looks at Ryan and makes a small gesture of tiredness, adjusting his glasses and going back to where he was. “Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish and know how to fix you.”

The next minutes go by like they’re a blur to Ryan, the tests, the check-ups, Patrick talking with the paramedics and evaluating, going from one place to another with papers in his hands and constantly focused. Ryan is not paying much attention to what they’re talking about because it’s all hypotheses until they know for sure. He knows, anyway, that whatever it is, it’s not good. The only thing in his mind right now is that he’s going to miss the most important games of the season, that everything he has worked for has gone to hell as fast as that motherfucker checked him against the board. The only doubt is if he’s not going to be able to play for the rest of the season or if he’s going to be lucky enough to recover before the Stanley Cup.

Ryan knows it’s over when he sees the paramedics exit the room and he’s left alone with Patrick, who looks at him and the results he has on his hands, over and over again, typing in his laptop and huffing sometimes. His phone sounds from time to time until he ends up putting it in silence, what is worse because it vibrates on the wood and echoes in the room.

“How long?” Ryan asks, because he doesn’t care about what it is, he just wants to know how long he’s going to be out of the ice. “How long, Patrick?”

“You’re not going to start the playoffs with the team,” Patrick answers, staring at him, making a gesture with his face, serious. “But you deserve it. You know you deserve it, right? What have you been doing the last physiotherapy sessions? Because it seems you’ve done everything but _physiotherapy_.”

“I know I’m not going to start the playoffs, dammit, Patrick,” Ryan says, losing his temper and raising his voice a little. “What I am asking is if I’m going to be able to finish them. I don’t need lessons right now.”

“Oh, don’t you? Do you even know what you just did to yourself? I think you do need lessons,” Patrick tone is harsh and he stands up from his seat and moves toward Ryan. “You’re going to be a month in bed, minimum. In bed. And then we’ll have to see how your leg responds to rehab, if you decide to do it. Or maybe you don’t need lessons about that either. So I don’t know how long, Ross. That’s up to you and your stubbornness.”

Ryan stops listening after he hears the month thing. A month. A month is a long time. It’s four weeks of games that, guessing they had to play the seven of the round, would make him miss the whole quarterfinals. Maybe even semifinals too if the round gets shorter. Ryan lets his head fall back on the stretcher and brings his hands to his face, the pain in his leg forgotten now that he knows the importance of the injury, a mix of feelings twisting in his guts.

“It’s rupture?” He asks, because if it will take so long being the muscle, it can’t be any other thing.

“Yes, it is,” Patrick nods, grabbing one of the cold sacks they’ve been using with him between test and test and putting it on his thigh. “Hold this. I’m going to let people in, okay? They’re all like crazy waiting for it.”

Ryan swallows and nods, taking a deep breath and letting the air out in a sigh, holding the sack against his thigh. He would be thankful if someone adjusted the stretcher so he’s more sitting than lying down, but Patrick doesn’t seem willing to make things easier for him right now, punishing him for the situation. Ryan doesn’t think it’s his fault, his thigh was fine, totally recovered, it was just a bad hit in the right place.

When Patrick opens the door, Bob and Spencer are the first ones coming in, walking towards him. Spencer still has the uniform on, just the helmet and gloves off, his hair soaking in sweat and his face red. Ryan almost can’t see Brendon coming in right behind them, followed by Jacky, keeping the distance but getting close enough.

“What the fuck happened?” Bob and Spencer ask almost at once, and Spencer keeps going. “It was that son of a bitch, right? Erikson. He went for you, that motherfucker. He wanted you out.”

“Patrick?” Bob asks, and everyone turn to look at the doctor, waiting.

Patrick takes off his glasses and gets them into his pocket, looking at Bob and then, surprisingly enough, at Brendon, putting his hands into his pockets and sighing.

“It wasn’t the bodycheck. I mean, of course the hit made it worse but the cause of the fiber rupture wasn’t the traumatism,” he starts to explain, looking this time right at Brendon, who starts to get pale as the rest of the guys let out different sounds when they hear the words ‘fiber rupture’. “I have never seen muscles so overworked since I’m working in high performance, the overstrain put down on them wasn’t something done in a day or two, but something continuous, something you should have seen in your sessions, Brendon. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, if it’s your responsibility or Ryan didn’t follow your instructions. But you should have informed about this if you knew he was like this before the game.”

Brendon looks at Patrick with huge eyes and his face totally pale, his lips trembling as if he was going to burst crying anytime now. He doesn’t say anything, not to Patrick, just turns so he looks at Ryan and murmurs ‘I’m sorry’ barely audible. Bob grunts and Spencer closes his fists tight as much as his jaw, looking at Brendon furious, but Ryan talks before anyone can do it.

“It’s my fault,” he says, trying to get everyone’s attention back to him, rushing to keep talking so no one can interrupt him. “I’ve been skating every day for weeks. I spent two hours per day or more at the gym and if I didn’t, I went running. I felt sore in the first half but I didn’t think it was important. It’s… It’s my responsibility. Not Brendon’s. I know my body and my limits and I crossed them, I’m the only one guilty.”

This time Bob’s grunt is louder, more like a growl, and it almost shuts off the small voice Brendon uses to deny what Ryan said.

“I knew I had to get you out of the team. There’s something wrong with you and if I would have, we could have fixed it before the fucking playoffs. The playoffs, Ryan, fuck!” Bob shouts, bringing his hands to his head.

“It’s not your fault, Ryan. Maybe you’ve been irresponsible, but Brendon’s work consists on seeing that and, if he can’t fix it, at least he can inform about it,” Patrick says, grabbing one of the reports. “What is your fault is the awful diet you’ve been following. You lost weight and your sugar levels are at minimum.”

“Okay, that’s all. Don’t say anything else, Patrick,” Bob interrupts him, shaking his head desperately. “I’m… I have to go to the press conference. You are out until you’re totally recovered. You’re not even going to set feet on the fucking ice when it snows in the city, you hear me?” He says, pointing at Ryan, turning then towards Brendon. “And you. You and I are going to have a few words.”

Ryan makes a face and he’s going to talk again to tell Bob not to punish Brendon, but he knows he has nothing to do if Patrick keeps stepping on his efforts. Ryan doesn’t care about what Brendon could or couldn’t have done, what he cares about is how they’re not going to throw him out for being irresponsible, but Brendon could lose his job and Cassie could get in trouble. Brendon is a great physiotherapist, and this didn’t have to fuck him over.

The room grows quiet when Bob gets out of there slamming the door, Patrick standing up and following him a few seconds after that, closing the door behind him and leaving the atmosphere tense and sharp. Brendon gets closer, resting one hand on Ryan’s ankle and not moving forward because Spencer’s rage can be felt everywhere. His friend just needs to hear a new ‘I’m sorry’ from Brendon to explode.

“Stop saying you’re sorry! What the fuck are you gonna fix with that?” Spencer shouts, making Brendon jump and look at him like a hare would look a snake.

“I didn’t…” Brendon trembles from head to toe, shaking his head and looking at Ryan, then at Spencer, removing his hand slowly from where it was. “I didn’t know…” Ryan says Spencer’s name, trying to make him calm down, but his friend ignores him.

“You didn’t know! That’s the fucking problem, Urie, you didn’t know! That was your motherfucking work!” He says, pointing at Ryan with his finger. “You have to prevent this to happen! This is only your fault, Urie, and you know it. You know it better than anyone. You fucked up his life…”

Brendon looks at Ryan, tightening his jaw as his eyes flood in tears, bursting out crying in that moment and holding on the stretcher as he apologizes over and over again, babbling sentences that don’t make sense as Jacky holds him so he doesn’t fall down, looking at Spencer like he doesn’t understand why he just treated Brendon like that.

“Spencer,” Ryan repeats, this time louder, letting go of the cold sack for a moment to use his hands a sit up on the stretcher. He wants to stand up, go to Brendon and tell him it’s not his fault, hug him. But he can’t. And not just because he can’t move his leg, “enough,” he says to his friend, looking at him hard and frowning, shaking his head and asking him with his eyes what the fuck is he doing. Spencer opens his mouth, starting to talk when Brendon interrupts him.

“How bad is it? How long? How long did he tell you?” He asks with a broken voice, wiping the tears off his face, looking at Ryan. Ryan feels something inside him breaking seeing him like this, sighing and looking down for a moment before he sets his eyes on him again.

“A month,” he says, and he feels like he’s the one who should be losing his shit right now, and not the rest of the guys. He is the one who’s going to be a month without being on the ice. He hasn’t been cut off from hockey for so long since he first started. Spencer starts to swear again, insulting the Gods, his fate and Brendon.

“Twenty days,” Brendon says, watching him firmly, and it’s enough for Spencer to shut up and look at him. “Twenty days, I promise. If you get me the machines I need, I’ll stay with you and make you recover in twenty days. I can do it. And you’re going to need someone who helps you do everything while you’re in bed.”

“Don’t you think you’ve already done enough?” Spencer asks, still with wrath in his voice. “I think what Ryan needs is a true friend who…”

“No.” Brendon interrupts him, talking firm and looking at Spencer this time. “I did this and only I can fix it. So, unless you have a fucking doctorate in physiotherapy I don’t know of, you should shut up and leave me do the right thing.”

Ryan listens the exchange of words without tearing his eyes off Brendon, not even blinking, counting in his head how much time he could win if he can be recovered in twenty days. Thinking about the games he could play.

“Can you do it?” He asks Brendon, ignoring Spencer’s look, ignoring he already said he could, too. He needs to know, he needs to be sure because this, what he’s risking here is more important than anything else.

“I can. With the right equipment and if you follow my instructions, I can. I promise,” Brendon answers, looking at him totally decided.

“Just tell me what you need,” Ryan nods, hopeful and motivated for the first time since he heard Patrick said it would take a month, staring at Brendon as decided as him, or more. “I trust you.”

Brendon smiles when he hears him, an honest smile, although it is a little stumbled because of his still uneven breath, looking down and nodding. He shuts his eyes and wipes his tears, looking at Ryan again.

“I’ll make you a list. It’s going to be expensive, but it’s worth it.”

“The money is not a problem,” Ryan answers, wincing when he tries to move on the stretcher and the pain explodes in his thigh, tightening his jaw. “Whatever it takes if you have me at one hundred percent for semifinals. And you,” he says to Spencer, punching him in his arm, smiling even though he knows his face is a mix between sadness and frustration, “you make us go through quarter of finals, you hear me? You guys can do it.”

Spencer huffs and starts to complain about Aaron not listening to him and Jeff letting the puck pass him, and Derek being too slow, as he always does. Spencer knows how to work with Ryan, he likes to do it, and for him it’s almost as bad as it is for Ryan. Brendon doesn’t say anything else, and he stays for a while looking at how Spencer is talking before he leans in and says something to Jacky’s ear, starting to walk towards the door together.

Ryan watches them go but he doesn’t interrupt Spencer to tell Brendon not to go. What he really wants is to be left alone with him, tell him not to listen to Patrick or Spencer and that, whatever Bob says, not to worry. Ryan is willing to stick up for him if he has to; Brendon is not going to leave that stadium as long as Ryan is there.

Spencer stays with him, telling him how they ended the match and the party they thought about throwing before Ryan got injured, not knowing if it’s still a plan or not. He stays with Ryan until Patrick and Bob come back and help him get dressed because he can go home. Patrick gives him his report with everything written and explained, and just then Spencer goes to take a shower, telling him he’ll pass by when he finishes.

Bob is already gone and Patrick is doing something on the computer, with the only sound of the typing echoing in the room, when the door opens and Brendon appears with a wheelchair and a cushion on it, leaving it next to the stretcher where Ryan is. He gets close to Ryan, looking at his injured leg even though it is covered in clothing, the worry written all over his face.

“Can you? Or do you need help?” He says, staying next to the stretcher in case Ryan needs to hold on him to sit, grabbing the cushion. Ryan looks at him, surprised for a moment because he thought he had gone.

“I can. I think,” he says, getting off the stretcher and resting his weight just on his healthy leg, moving until Brendon gets an arm around him and holds him firm, grabbing the wheelchair so he can sit. “Thank you,” Ryan says when he’s already on the chair, making a gesture and resting his feet on the footrest.

“It’s nothing,” Brendon replies, crouching down and grabbing his leg softly, putting the cushion under his thigh and touching him with his hand then. “We’re going to drain with a massage tomorrow. Keep putting cold on it and keep it high. Try not to move so much while you sleep, we need the rest to be complete the first days if we want to work right, okay? No waking up with the sheets all tangled. That’s forbidden,” he says, looking up at him with a small smile.

Ryan looks at Patrick for a moment, who keeps minding his business and doesn’t seem to be listening, and then gets his eyes on Brendon again, smiling back and resting his hand over Brendon’s on his thigh.

“Hey,” he says, even though it’s not to attract his attention because he already has it, lowering his voice a little. “This is not your fault, you hear me? Ignore whoever tells you it is. It’s not.”

“It is,” Brendon replies, making a gesture with his head, watching the hand Ryan just placed over his own. “But I’m going to fix it, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Ryan answers, squeezing Brendon’s hand before he removes his, using all his willpower to do it, swallowing and clearing his throat. “I told you I trust you, and I really do.”

Brendon nods and smiles a little again, even though he’s not looking at Ryan. He stands up next to the wheelchair, looking around like if he were thinking about what to do next.

“You can’t drive like this,” he says then, gazing Ryan’s injured leg, making a gesture before he raises his eyes to Ryan’s. “I can… Um, I can drive you, if you want. My driving has improved since last classes,” he adds with a little smile. “It’s not like I could make things worse, anyway.”

Ryan laughs short and rolls his eyes, looking at him then and lifting his eyebrow because Brendon is determined to blame himself. He takes a look at the clock hanging on the wall and thinks Spencer shouldn’t take long to finish. He bites his lip and huffs, looking at Brendon.

“I have to tell Spencer,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “He told me he’d come with me, but this way… this way he doesn’t have to leave his car here. If you drive me. He’s probably still in the locker room.”

“We can go there first, if you want. So you can tell him, and we can get out of here. The sooner you’re resting, the better,” Brendon suggests, getting behind Ryan’s wheelchair as he talks, starting to guide him before he can say anything. “Patrick! I got him,” he says, raising his voice, and Patrick just looks up for a moment, watching him over the glasses and making a gesture with his hand, giving him permission.

Spencer is done getting dressed when Ryan gets in the locker ~~s~~ room, the wheelchair pushed by Brendon. He is closing his bag and hanging it over his shoulder. When Ryan calls him and Spencer turns around to look at him, he freezes in the spot, staring at Brendon and then at Ryan with a lifted eyebrow. He walks towards them, looking at Brendon before he talks to Ryan.

“Are we going?” He asks, his tone letting them know he’s just talking about Ryan and himself, not Brendon. Ryan stares at him, thinking about his next words because he knows Spencer isn’t going to like them.

“Um. Brendon offered to drive me home,” he says, looking at him, asking him not to turn this into an argument with his eyes. “So we don’t have to leave none of our cars here. You can rest, come see me tomorrow.”

Spencer looks at him like he didn’t understand what he’s talking about, frowning and looking at Brendon again with an incredulous face.

“Are you telling me you prefer him to drive you after everything that’s happened?” Spencer asks, totally offended. “Unbelievable…”

“Spencer, come on…” Ryan pleads, sighing. Spencer huffs, grabbing Ryan’s bag and throwing it next to the wheelchair rudely.

“Whatever you want,” he says, starting to walk to get out of the lockers room. “It’s your fucking business then, if you’re taking home someone who didn’t even wait a month before he started fucking another guy.”

Spencer gets out with a hard push at the door, his name echoing with Ryan’s voice when he calls for him with no answer. The silence in the room is enough for him not to need seeing Brendon’s face and knowing what he looks like. Ryan grimaces and looks down, huffing. Spencer’s words don’t make him feel any better and he starts to feel the tiredness.

“Come on…” Brendon says then, pushing Ryan’s wheelchair to go to the parking lot, grabbing his bag and hanging it over his shoulder.

It’s a short way, but that doesn’t make the silence between them less awkward. Brendon walks fast, getting his things from the office and leaving the stadium immediately. He talks just to ask Ryan where did he park, and he turns that way without saying anything else. Ryan sees him again when Brendon opens the car’s door and helps him get in the seat. He rounds the car and closes the wheelchair to get it into the trunk before he gets in the driver seat, turning the engine on.

“So… I guess Spencer knows, right?” Brendon asks, making sure everything’s in place before starting to get out of the parking spot carefully.

“He knew the moment we talked about what had happened between us,” Ryan says, sighing and looking at Brendon carefully, trying to decipher what he thinks about this. “You know, after we had that fight. I didn’t even say your name, he just… told me it was obvious.”

Brendon nods, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just keeps looking at the road and tries to do everything right so he doesn’t mess everything up with the car, doing everything Ryan taught him those times Brendon drove his car. He just removes his hand from the wheel once, when there’s just road before them, to turn on the radio and let the music fill up the silence in the car. Ryan waits for him to say something, anything, but when he doesn’t Ryan bites his lip and sighs again, looking down at his lap where the cold sack is not that cold anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and he doesn’t know if he does because Spencer knows, because he didn’t tell Brendon before, or what. “Spencer knows me too much, he just had to look at me to…” Ryan stops right there, swallowing and leaving the sentence unfinished. Brendon looks at him for a second, surprised, shaking his head no as he looks forward again.

“No. No, don’t worry about that. It’s okay,” he rushes to correct, making a gesture with his head. “I don’t mind Spencer knowing. I mean, I don’t… I’ve never hidden I’m… I mean, if you’re cool with that, I don’t mind. It’s better like that, having someone who knows. Well, even though we’re not… But yeah, don’t worry. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” says Ryan softly, and maybe he could be relieved Brendon doesn’t mind, but he’s too busy thinking about how Brendon didn’t confirm or denied he’s fucking someone else, as Spencer said. Ryan was almost sure, after talking to Jacky that morning, but it seemed like there was a part of him still wanting to believe otherwise. He can’t fool that part anymore.

They stay in silence for a while, the songs on the radio the only sound creating a false atmosphere of cordiality. Brendon speaks just to ask him if he’s on the right way, to ask for the remote that opens the outside door of his house and offering him his help to get out of the car.

They can hear the racket of the dogs at the other side of the door when Brendon grabs the keys to open it, keeping Ryan behind him and being attacked by tongues and paws as he tries to get inside. Brendon laughs as he tries to escape from them, protecting Ryan at the same time with his body so the dogs don’t jump on his leg.

“Go to the bedroom. I’m gonna feed them and I’ll be there in a second. Are you hungry? Want me to prepare something to eat?” Brendon asks with Rat practically jumping on him so he can lick him and Uncle Em running around him wiggling her tail. He’s holding Zeppelin by his collar with one hand and rubbing Hilda’s head with the other one. Ryan can’t help smiling as he sees his dogs so happy because they’re seeing Brendon again. The last weeks they seemed to be as dull as him, or more.

“No, I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head no and looking at Brendon when he thinks what he really wants is a bath, making a face. “Um. Could you…? I mean. Can you bring a stool to my bathroom, please? It’s going to be easier for me showering if I’m sat than doing it standing on just one leg,” he explains, feeling his cheeks turning red and avoiding looking at Brendon.

“It’s better if you keep your leg stretched out,” Brendon answers, trying to calm down the dogs. “It would be better if you got into the tub, letting the water fall. It’s what I was going to do when I had these bugs busy, preparing the bath. Go to your room. I got everything, don’t worry.”

“Oh, um. Okay.” Ryan nods. If it was already awkward undressing in Brendon’s office, he doesn’t want to think how it’s going to be getting naked and Brendon helping him to get in the tub. He wonders if Jacky knows Brendon is here helping him, what does he think about it. “Okay,” he repeats lower, going to the room, pushing the wheels of the chair.

It’s not until he’s reaching the stairs that he remembers that, in fact, his house has stairs. And a wheelchair can’t climb them. Ryan looks upstairs with a sigh, biting his lip, tempted to stand up and climb the stairs with just one leg, but discarding the idea because he doesn’t want to fall down the stairs and break his skull.

He looks at the direction of the living room and the hall, but Brendon is not to be seen, probably because he’s feeding the dogs, so the only thing he can do is wait. Ryan huffs and rests his elbow on the armrest, holding his head with his hand as he looks at the stairs with feelings mixed between longing and frustration, waiting. Brendon doesn’t take long and when he comes back, without the dogs running after him, he looks at Ryan and burst out laughing suddenly, bringing one hand to his face and covering his mouth.

“Shit, I didn’t remember,” he says, looking at him and the stairs. “You don’t have a guest room or something down here, right?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he walks towards Ryan, getting closer so Ryan can hold on him and stand up. “You rich people with your huge and impractical houses,” he jokes, pulling on Ryan to hold his weight on him, starting to climb up the stairs.

“Being in a wheelchair for twenty days was not in my plans, to be honest,” Ryan says, holding on Brendon and the handrail, trying to ignore how good he smells in order to keep his sanity. Or the little he has left. “I would have looked for another house, otherwise.”

“Actually, you’re going to be in bed, although not for twenty days. Maybe ten,” Brendon comments, reaching the last step. He walks with Ryan towards the room and leaves him sitting on the mattress when they get there. “I’m gonna get the bath ready. You can’t use the water too hot for now, okay? And…” Brendon bites his lips, looking at the bathroom door and then at Ryan again, “I’ll have to help you, it’s that okay?”

Ryan feels his cheeks flush again but it’s not like he could say no. Maybe this would have been easier if Spencer did it, actually, but Ryan wanted so bad to spend time with Brendon it made him forget about everything that involved Brendon coming home with him. He nods in silence, brushing his hand over the quilt next to him like he was shaking some nonexistent dust. Brendon seems to accept that because he goes and gets into the bathroom, and Ryan can hear the water running just seconds after. Brendon doesn’t come out immediately but he does, because he has to, and Ryan knows he’s going to have to take his clothes off some time, so it’s better not to think about it and just do it.

“Do you need help with something?” Brendon asks, making a gesture towards Ryan’s clothes.

“No. No,” Ryan says, taking off his hoddie and shirt at the same time, and leaving them on the mattress, letting himself fall back on the bed to lift his hips off the mattress and push his pants down. He tries not to wince when he strengthen his legs and his thigh protests, but it’s just a moment, until he has his pants around his thighs and he can go back to his previous position, pulling them down. He doesn’t look at Brendon during the process, trying to ignore his presence, but it becomes a little hard when the only thing he has left is the boxers. “Um. I think I… I’ll finish in the bathroom.”

“Okay. Cool.” Brendon nods, getting closer and gabbing him again to help him stand, closing his hand on Ryan’s waist carefully.

He walks him to the bathroom, where he put everything within reach, leaving him sitting on the tub edge and helping him get his injured leg inside. He releases him only when Ryan assures him he can keep going alone, and he tells him to call him when he’s done, leaving the towel closer and going out, leaving the door just a little open.

Ryan sighs when he’s finally in the tub, closing his eyes and resting his head on the edge. He doesn’t hear any sound outside and he doesn’t know if Brendon is still in the bedroom or he’s gone. He doesn’t know either what he thinks about all this; Ryan realizes he actually doesn’t know anything about anything. He feels like he has too much information and too little, all at once, he doesn’t know when was the moment in which he thought it was a good idea Brendon taking care of him when what they’ve been doing is just small talk for weeks.

Twenty days. Ryan’s been at home with Brendon barely a few minutes now and he’s already thinking this was not his best idea, he doesn’t know how he’s going to last twenty days. Seeing him, touching him and talking to him as if nothing has happened, as if he wasn’t dying on the inside for crawling into bed with him and kiss him and doing everything they did before they decide it was better not to do it.

It’s not until that moment, when the silence in the bathroom leaves him alone with his thoughts, that he starts to really be aware of what just happened and what it brings. Since the Hounds signed him, he hasn’t done anything else than working and living for hockey, giving his best for having what he dreamt about since the first time his father brought him to a match and he saw what it was like. The previous year they were about to get it, and Ryan promised himself he was going to do everything he could so this season his team could get the Stanley Cup in June.

This happening, right now, makes everything Ryan worked for months, even before the season started, go to hell. He’s been giving his best on the ice and in every one of the practice sessions to bring the team to the final, and right when they most need him he has to step aside from the competition for so long they are risking going through the semifinals. Quarters of final are just the first playoffs round, but without his best defensemen, the teams were going to get advantage of it. There are no weak teams here anymore, and Ryan let his team down in the worst moment.

He huffs and brings his hands to his face, rubbing it and pushing his hair back as he swallows the lump in his throat, the frustration and rage and indecision. Everything gathers in his stomach and tenses Ryan’s muscles, and his thigh hurts reminding him why he’s angry, making it worse. He swears softly as he hits the first thing he finds, being a bottle of soap, making it fall from the edge of the tub to the floor and the sound echoing in the room.

It’s almost instantly, when Ryan hears the soft tap on the door and Brendon’s voice asking if everything’s good. Ryan opens his mouth to answer but his voice doesn’t come out at first, and he realizes the lump is bigger, as if the emotions were building up there as the minutes go by, and he’s more aware of the reality. Ryan clears his throat before he tries again, and this time he does answer, saying everything’s fine and he’s about to finish, with his voice more distressed and rougher than he would like.

“Hey.” Brendon’s voice sounds closer and Ryan sees he’s opened the door a little, just not enough for him to stick his head in the bathroom. “I didn’t tell you but I’m going to try draining a little when you’re out. If you… want me to bring you, I don’t know, clothes or something or… I mean, I need access to your thigh. But, you know.”

“Just the underwear is fine,” Ryan says, too focused in the realization he just had, ignoring if his voice sounds as empty and hopeless as he feels right now.

He hears Brendon going out and looking into his drawers, entering the bathroom then fast and not looking at him, leaving the clothes next to the towel and telling him he’ll wait outside before he goes. Ryan just takes a few more minutes before he starts getting out of the tub.

He holds on the edges to stand up first, resting his weight on his healthy leg and leaving the other one in the air, leaning against the wall so he doesn’t fall. Ryan considers his possibilities and sits on the edge to lift his leg and bring it to the other side and then do the same with the other one. However, when he tries to help himself with one of his hands, he holds on the tub with just one hand and he finds himself too unsteady sitting on the edge. He stumbles a little and he’s afraid to fall, so he rests his feet on the tub out of instinct, a sharp pain crossing his thigh. Ryan huffs and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and swallowing his shame before he calls Brendon.

“Are you already…?” Brendon asks as he goes inside, stopping on his tracks for a second, making a hesitation sound with his throat before he gets closer. “Okay. Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he says, sitting on the edge next to Ryan and putting his arm around him, lifting him and groping for the towel. “Hold on my shoulders, okay?” Brendon adds, holding Ryan’s arms himself to bring them there, getting closer than he’s been in a long time. Ryan can see Brendon’s cheeks totally blushed as he puts a towel around Ryan’s waist, closing it in a quick movement around his hips. Ryan would like to say he feels better knowing he’s not the only one tortured with this, but the truth is he feels bad for Brendon. “All done. Let’s go to the room, it’d be easier for you to get dressed on the bed,” he explains, circling him again around the waist and grabbing the underwear he brought before, walking out of the bathroom.

Ryan sighs when he’s sitting again on the mattress, avoiding looking at Brendon as he grabs his underwear and bends down to put them on, pulling them up to his knees. He stands then and rests his weight in one leg once again, pulling up his boxers under the towel and unwrapping it when he’s done, leaving it on the bed before he sits again. His skin is still damp, and there are some drops of water rolling down his back and wetting his boxers, but Ryan just rubs the towel over his chest and arms a couple of times before he throws it on the floor, clearing his throat and looking at Brendon.

“Do you need…? Um. Do I have to lay down?” he asks, and his voice still doesn’t have his usual tone back. Brendon nods, waiting for Ryan to move before he sits next to him, grabbing his bag and opening it to start getting out some things, leaving them on the mattress.

“How’s the pain going? Is it better?” he asks, rubbing his hands like he always does, grabbing one of the bottles he’s gotten out. Ryan shrugs. He’s not paying attention to the pain, if it hurts more or less; he just knows it does hurt. He doesn’t care either, the pain can’t be worse than the fact that he’s going to miss the most important moment of the season. Brendon nods, lifting his leg a little and putting his hands on the thigh. “This doesn’t have to hurt, okay? So, the moment you feel pain, you tell me and I’ll do it softer.”

Brendon doesn’t wait for Ryan to answer, starting to move his fingers up his thigh, not putting pressure on it, just like he were checking out. He makes soft and repetitive movements, deepening them after a bit but not really squeezing, sliding the muscles as he goes by, moving them. He looks at Ryan for a second before he presses a little harder, this time letting his fingers put pressure on the skin, more intense than before. Ryan tenses, more out of surprise than anything, but he doesn’t say anything because it doesn’t hurt. The silence goes on and Ryan has so many thoughts crossing his head to feel comfortable without any noise, much less when it’s Brendon who’s with him in the room.

“I shouldn’t have worked out so much these weeks,” he says after a sigh, letting his head fall on the pillow and looking at his bedroom ceiling, shaking his head. “If I hadn’t done it, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I should have kept an eye on you.” Brendon shakes his head no without raising his gaze, still moving his hands on Ryan’s thigh. “I don’t care what you say, Ryan, you and I know I haven’t been treating you as I should in sessions. And it’s my fault. It doesn’t matter you know yourself and knew you were overworking. It’s me who didn’t do his job.”

“You wouldn’t have needed it if I hadn’t done it,” Ryan says. “My thigh was fine, and it would have stayed like that if I didn’t try to get myself busy every damn hour with workout. Maybe you didn’t see it, but you didn’t have to, in the first place, because I should have been careful.” He swallows and huffs, bringing his hands to his face again, covering his eyes. “Patrick is right. I deserve to miss the playoffs.”

“That’s not true,” Brendon rushes to contradict him, stopping his hands on Ryan’s thigh and looking at him. “If there’s someone in that team who deserves to play, it’s you. I have never met anyone so hardworking, with so much passion, capable of sacrificing so many things for what he wants…” he says, lowering his head and shaking it, continuing with the massage. “You may be… imperfect, but everyone is. You deserve to play and I’m going to make you do it. In the end, directly or indirectly, it’s still my fault…”

Ryan moves his hands away and looks down to watch Brendon, and he wants desperately to believe his words, he believes them. But, unlike before in the office, they don’t inject that rush of motivation, just make him nod slowly and breathe in again.

“I can’t help but think,” he confesses, lowering his tone, “I’ve let the team down when they most need me. If… if we don’t go through quarters of final, I wouldn’t blame them for hating me.”

“You’re going to go through quarters of final. Ryan, your team is strong. And, as important as you are, you are not indispensable, you know?” Brendon says, looking at him again but not stopping this time. “It’s not a person who makes the team. It’s the team what makes every person in it. This can even be a surprise factor, everyone thinks you’re going to be weaker now, and they don’t expect you on the ice again for a month. You can use this on your favor if you’re clever. You just have to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Ryan can’t help but laugh, look at Brendon and laugh from his chest as he shakes his head.

“Did you know you’re the only one who talks to me like that?” He says, the smile still on his face. “Everyone around me always treated me like I was special just being who I am, as if they couldn’t go on without me and they had to treat me good so I wouldn’t get angry or something like that. Even Bob and Spencer do it, sometimes. But you don’t,” he says and he doesn’t do it like a reproach, but the opposite. “You’re the one who slaps me in the face to make me wake up, if you have to.”

“Well, someone has to do it, right?” Brendon says, shrugging and looking down with half a smile, rubbing his face with the back of his hand like he could wipe the blush away that way. He goes back to the massage, looking at it with a frown, like he were thinking about it, and raising his gaze to Ryan’s face before he lowers it down again. Brendon licks his lips and makes a sound with his throat before he talks again. “It’s not true, by the way. What Spencer said before. I’m not... I mean, it’s not like you care, but. It’s not true, that about me not waiting even a month before fucking someone else, and I don’t know… He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know anything about me, so I don’t know where he got that from. But it’s not true. And I’d prefer him not to tell lies about me. I’m the one who does that, usually,” he adds, laughing a little through his nose.

“Oh,” Ryan says, and now it’s his turn to blush as he thinks about Brendon’s words. He feels confused, but his brain has accepted the information fast and the relief is already expanding through his body. “Oh, really? Um. Maybe, maybe it was my fault. I said… something. I mean, I never confirmed it to him, but.” Ryan grimaces, feeling so bad and stupid right now, the color on his cheeks darkening as he looks down avoiding Brendon’s face. “I thought you and Jacky…” He confesses, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Brendon stops the massage then, looking at Ryan totally serious and with an incredulous face. He takes long to react, as if he didn’t understand what Ryan just said to him. He blinks and looks down at his hands and Ryan’s thigh before he looks at him again, pushing his lips together and nodding, breathing in.

“Jacky has a girlfriend. Since two years ago. Today he even told me to help him find a place so he has everything ready when she comes. He’s straight, by the way,” he says, taking his hands off Ryan and moving from the bed, getting everything in his bag. “But thank you for thinking that about me.” Ryan sees him close the bag’s zipper roughly, stumbling and leaving it half open before he stands up. He reacts fast and sits up on the bed, reaching out with his hand to grab Brendon’s wrist, trying to prevent him for going.

“Bren, please,” he pleads with huge eyes, rushing to explain himself. “I thought… I didn’t want to believe it but he suddenly said he was staying in Chicago and he was going to ask you to move in with him. I,” he shrugs, making a helpless gesture, “didn’t know what to think. And at Cassie’s party I saw him so… I thought he wanted something with you and, and I thought maybe you were doing what you should. Trying to, I don’t know, move on,” he explains desperate for Brendon to understand because, right now, the last thing he needs is Brendon being mad at him. Brendon looks at him with huge eyes, as if everything Ryan is saying is confusing him more. “I’m sorry. I just mentioned it to Spencer because the idea of… It was just a comment. I didn’t think he was going to take it literally, I’m sorry.”

“Do you think I care about what Spencer thinks about me? I don’t give a fuck you mentioned it to him, to whoever. The worst thing is you believed it, you really believed it!” Brendon brings one hand to his face, shaking his head. “Jacky. Jacky is my friend. One of the few I have, by the way. And yes, he told me about living together because he didn’t like where I live now and I don’t need to be there anymore now that I’ve finished my Master’s. It’s something friends do, you know? Living together. And if Jacky has been so attentive with me it’s because of how fucked up I was because of you,” Brendon says, wincing when the last sentence comes out of his mouth, sighing and huffing. “Did you really think I was ‘moving on’? That it would be so fucking hard touching you if I were moving on? Fuck, Ryan, is that what you really think you were for me?” He looks at Ryan with his lips trembling, pressing them together when he takes a step back. “I gotta go.”

“Brendon,” Ryan calls him with urgency, trying to move from the bed and failing, feeling the words stumbling in his throat and his thoughts running in his head. “I was just jealous, okay?” He says suddenly, shutting up when he realizes what he just said, sighing and deciding the only thing he can do is to be honest with Brendon. “Since the party. I was jealous because… because there was nothing attaching you to me, and I saw how you two treated each other, I saw the relationship you two had and I started to realize that at any moment you could… with him or anyone else. And that made me feel…” He swallows and bites his lip, feeling his heartbeats resounding in his chest. “I didn’t even think where did that leave you, I just… I just could think about the possibility and, and I got blind. I know that doesn’t justify I thought that about you but I don’t. I couldn’t think about anything else.”

Brendon isn’t looking at him, he stopped doing it a while ago, closing his hands in fists and tightening his jaw as he listen to him. He has his eyes open, however, not blinking, shining, and he just blinks when he raises his head, looking up at the ceiling and letting out the air he was holding.

“Nothing attaches me to you,” he says then, licking his lip with his voice congested. “And it was you who decided that, it was you who came into my house and told me it was sad, but there was nothing we could do about it. And I accepted it, okay?” His hands tremble when he points to Ryan with one. “So you have no right to…” The words get stuck in his throat and Brendon raises his hand to his face, covering it, his breath speeding up. He stays like that for a few seconds, trying to calm down. “I am a person, Ryan. I’m not your experiment, I’m not here for you to decide with whom I am or how, if it’s with you or not, if it’s a secret or… I feel. And you can’t put me through this situation because it’s not fair. It’s not fair,” he says, shaking his head and walking backwards to the door. “I can’t. I can’t talk about this right now…”

“Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I don’t _feel_?” Ryan asks, raising his voice and frowning. “Because I do, and that’s precisely what made me…”

“Ryan,” Brendon interrupts him, stopping him with a hand up, shaking his head no and wiping a tear sliding down his cheek. “I said not now. Tomorrow… I’ll come back tomorrow to see how you’re doing, to keep on with the treatment. Tomorrow. Not now,” he repeats, going to the door and opening it to get out, closing it behind him. Ryan sees him go with a frown and his emotions on edge. The rage, frustration and confusion, everything mixes everywhere and not being able to stand up and follow Brendon through the house doesn’t make his mood get better. He wants to shout so he comes back, tell him he can’t go just like that, that he can’t leave him there after everything he’s said, with so much unsaid.

The minutes go by and Ryan stays where he is, as if everything he’s feeling prevented him even from breathing. In the end, he says Brendon’s name again even though he knows it’s useless because Brendon must be already out of his house, trying to move on the bed and succeeding until he’s sitting on the edge. He stands up just on one leg, his breath rough, and he knows Brendon is not in the house but he moves anyway, going towards the door jumping on his healthy leg and opening it just to find silence.

He stays there for a few seconds, looking outside the room as if something were going to appear in his corridor any moment, or maybe not something but Brendon. The only thing that appears are the dogs, walking happily to the room, spreading out in the room as if they were choosing the best place for them. Ryan slams the door when he finally stops looking at the empty corridor, leaning against the wall next to the door and moving carefully until he’s sitting on the floor, leaving both legs stretched out before him, breathing hard. He tries to think about what exactly did he say to make Brendon leave like that, what it is that he made out of his words because Ryan would swear the only thing he did was telling him how he felt.

The dogs walk close to him as soon as they see him there, cuddling around him and getting comfortable to sleep. Ryan is not sleepy right now even though he’s exhausted, and he doesn’t know how much time he spends like that, on the floor petting his dogs as they snore. When he stands up carefully and goes back to bed, he still takes an hour or more to fall sleep, and the dream is not comforting at all.

 

 

 


	10. Delay of Game

10.

 

When Ryan opens his eyes, waking up from a not very deep sleep with the feeling of not having slept at all and being used to test some off-road’s wheels instead, the light that comes through the French window tells him it’s the break of dawn. His eyes sting and his body’s heavy and hurt for spending the night without moving, because it seems like his brain learnt well and he stayed in the same position the whole night. He blinks looking at the ceiling and reaches with his hand to bury his fingers in Zeppelin’s fur, who’s sleeping tight on the other side of the bed. Ryan closes his eyes again to try and fall back asleep, because it’s not like he can get up at all, but it doesn’t seem to work. The only thing he can do is wait there, awake, tired and in a bad mood that only seems to get worse, for the sun to rise a little more and for Brendon to come home again.

He takes less than Ryan thought, actually, although it’s not like Ryan knew when Brendon was going to come. It’s not like he gave Ryan details when he stormed out of his room last night. It’s barely eight o’clock in the morning when Ryan receives a text from Brendon asking him if he minds calling the security guy to let him in. Ryan does, using the phone on his bedside table to contact the guard, hanging up and counting the seconds Brendon takes to get to his door. He knows Brendon’s near because Rat raises from where she’s lying and sits in front of the room door, looking up and wiggling her tail, excited.

Brendon opens the door carefully, smiling a little when Rat jumps on him, trying to climb him. He squats to scratch Rat’s head and behind her ears, greeting her and saying pretty things to her before looking up at the bed. He doesn’t look good. Brendon is one of those people that shine so bright you immediately notice when their light fades. He’s pale, limp, he moves more like a robot than a real person, on automatic, walking towards Ryan and sitting on the edge of the bed. He sighs before he speaks.

“How’s your thigh?” he asks, leaving his bag at his feet.

“Good, I guess,” answers Ryan, looking at his own thigh and shrugging. “After so many hours not moving… It doesn’t hurt, at rest like that.”

“That’s a good sign,” says Brendon, taking his bag to open it. “I made you a list, as I said, with the machines I will need. Not yet, in a few days,” he says, leaving a folded piece of paper on Ryan’s nightstand. “I’m going to massage the zone for about ten minutes now, and then later we’ll make some passive mobilization. I guess you didn’t have breakfast yet, did you?”

“I thought about eating Zeppelin,” says Ryan looking at the dog, still snuggled against him, now awake. Brendon can’t help but laugh, lowering his head and looking at the dog. “But he would probably win, so… I thought waiting was the best idea.” Ryan looks at Brendon’s face, smiling a little and sighing. “I can fix breakfast, I just need you to help me go downstairs.”

“No, there’s no need for that. At least the first five days you should stay here, we’re not risking using the stairs,” says Brendon, shaking his head no. “Besides, I got your diet from your nutritionist yesterday. I put it on the fridge with a magnet, so I don’t forget anything. It’s not like I’m going to cook everything, most of it will get out of your credit card,” adds Brendon, smiling small, “I’ll bring breakfast, then. And I’ll walk the dogs while you eat. Then later…” He makes a movement with his shoulders, lowering his head and petting Rat. “Later we can talk, if you want to.”

“That would be good, yeah,” Ryan nods, moving so he stands up a bit, resting his back against the headboard. “I’d like to talk. Did you have breakfast already?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’m fine,” nods Brendon, pointing at the sheets. “I need access to your leg.”

Ryan laughs softly, Brendon’s sentence sounding strange, like it wasn’t appropriate between them. It’s not, Ryan thinks, they’ve never been frivolous like that, words sounding too big, everything feeling artificial and weird. He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose, pushing the sheets away as well as the comforter, letting his leg uncovered, getting goosebumps because of the temperature change.

“What? My vocabulary is funny to you?” asks Brendon, raising an eyebrow and looking at Ryan just for a second before he starts working on his thing with a small smile.

“Something like that, yeah,” says Ryan, smiling and biting his lips, fixing his eyes in the way Brendon works. “It’s… formal.”

“Formal?” Brendon asks, snorting a laugh without looking away from Ryan’s leg. “Did you want me to just uncover you myself without asking for permission?” he asks, and it sounds like a joke and a little bit like a rhetorical question. Ryan wants to say yes, that would have been absolutely better, but he bites his lip and shrugs.

“You could just ask like a normal person,” he jokes, or he tries, because his voice still sounds sleepy and mostly dull. “You know, like: ‘can you uncover, please?’ or just ‘uncover yourself,’ something like that.”

“Where have you been these last months? You should know already I don’t do things like normal people,” Brendon jokes too, smiling a little and shrugging. “I guess it’s _déformation professionnelle_. I’ve been treating the whole team lately. I still am. And I still have to… Or so I hope."

“Yeah, that… that’s true,” says Ryan, talking about Brendon not doing things like normal people, especially with him. “I guess it’s the lack of habit. So much formality,” he says, making a face immediately and apologizing even if he doesn’t know why. He feels like he should, anyway. Ryan clears his throat and brings a hand to his face, rubbing it and sighing.

“It’s probably that,” Brendon says after a while in silence, moving his shoulders and sliding his hands behind Ryan’s thigh to raise it. “But I guess it was going to happen, sooner or later. That… that lack of habit,” he says, laughing a little. “Going back to being formal.”

“Yeah…” Ryan turns his head to the side to look at Zeppelin, petting him and smiling soft. “Congratulations, by the way,” he adds without looking at Brendon, even if it’s hard to do it.

“For… going back to being formal?” asks Brendon with a curious tone, like he didn’t know why Ryan was saying that.

“For finishing your Master’s degree,” clears up Ryan with his eyes still on Zeppelin and something stuck in his throat. Maybe because this is not the way he’d like to congratulate him, not like this. Damned formality. “Last night… Last night you said you had finished it.”

“Oh. Yes. Yeah, that. Thanks,” Brendon nods, keeping up with the passive mobilization exercises, and it’s weird to have a conversation while someone moves your leg up and down. “Cassie threw a little party, to celebrate. Something quiet, just a few friends.” Brendon says, and Ryan can notice something in his voice. “She said she was so mad at me, because now she had to come back to work sooner than she thought,” he says, laughing. Ryan looks back at Brendon then, still petting the dog but paying attention to him.

“Why?” he asks, frowning. Brendon looks at him frowning too, blinking a couple of times.

“Why, what exactly?” he asks, making a face before laughing. “You must learn to ask full sentences, Ryan.”

He laughs too, apologizing and shaking his head, looking at Brendon again.

“I mean why she has to come back because you’ve finished your degree,” he explains, and it’s not that he has something against Cassie, but he’s gotten used to just crossing the corridor when he feels like seeing Brendon. It’s curious, how fast he’s adapted to Brendon’s presence when Ryan’s not one of those people who find easy creating relationships. When it comes to Brendon, as Cassie said, it’s like he’s gotten inside and there’s no way of getting him out.

“Oh, well, you know how that is,” Brendon says, moving his hand, resigned. “Now that I’m not in the university and I don’t have a contract, I don’t have any insurance. Before it counted as my internship with Cassie, so I was covered by the university insurance. Now that I’m out, nothing covers my work or me. And it’s not like Cassie can keep me as trainee or something, because she’s just another employee, you know?” He makes a face, shrugging. “I don’t if I’m gonna be able to keep working for the team until the official end of the scholar year or if I’ll have to go soon. I will ask when I go to get my title, pay the taxes and all that shit. Anyway, I have to look for something else as soon as I can, or I will end up…” Brendon laughs, not finishing his sentence and lowering Ryan’s hand, placing a pillow under it. “You don’t have to worry, though. Even if I have to do it by myself if I get fired tomorrow, I promised you a twenty days recovery and I’m gonna keep it.”

“You wouldn’t do it for free, if you get fired tomorrow,” says Ryan with a serious tone. “But, anyway, I wasn’t worried about that. It’s just… Well, I’d gotten used to have you around,” he says, shrugging and trying to less important than his body thinks it is by the way his stomach clenches and his throat closes. “It’s going to be weird to be there and not listening to someone singing Aladdin or things like that,” he adds, trying to joke about it, laughing soft.

“Jon can sing. I can ask Cassie to bring him in some days,” Brendon says, following the joke. He shrugs a little, taking the covers to put them over Ryan’s leg now that he’s finished. “It’s not like I’ve been there for so long, you will get used being back to normal. You like having a routine,” Brendon assures, nodding. “And of course I wouldn’t do it for free if they fired me tomorrow. This is already paid, all of those weeks I was being negligent. This… this has been paid."

Ryan doesn’t argue any of the things Brendon has said. He doesn’t say he wouldn’t allow him to come everyday to his home for a treatment that he’s sure anywhere else it would cost him more than the double Brendon is getting for it. He doesn’t say he won’t get used not to having him there either, that now his routine was waiting to see how Brendon would surprise him that day. He doesn’t say any of that; he just stays in silence, petting Zeppelin now that he’s resting his head on Ryan’s lap.

“What I’ll try to do now is save as much as I can,” says Brendon when they stay in silence for a while, standing up from the bed but not going to the door, “because I’m sure I won’t find a job overnight. Luckily I will leave my apartment soon, and everything’s in order, so I’ll get my deposit back. And Jacky…” Brendon stops himself there when the name comes out of his mouth, looking away and scratching the back of his neck, putting his hands in his pockets then. “Jacky says I don’t need to pay rent until I find a job, so I can save everything I earn while I’m working with the team, I just have to pay for the food, train and stuff. Jacky’s house is also closer to the stadium, closer to you. So I’ll take less to come and, who knows, maybe I can get a car soon.”

“I see,” Ryan nods, ignoring the way the feelings gather inside his stomach. The shame coming back for assuming Jacky was interested in Brendon that way, his jealousy still there even knowing that he’s not. Probably because Jacky is going to be able to share things with Brendon that’s he’s not. Time. Ryan won’t get to spend time with him, even less once Brendon stops working at the stadium.

Zeppelin must sense something, because he raises his head to look at Ryan, whining a little, and Ryan smiles at him quickly, petting him and telling him how good boy he is and how much he loves him. Brendon stays a few more seconds there, looking at them before saying something about breakfast, turning around and going through the door.

Ryan looks at Brendon while he leaves and walks to the corridor until Ryan can’t see him anymore. He sighs then, letting the air out with an unstable huff, looking back at Zeppelin and leaning down to kiss his head. He lets his body slide down to lie back on the bed, hugging the dog with one of his arms and snuggling with him. The best of Zeppelin is that he always let Ryan do whatever he wants with him, so Ryan can hug him like a teddy bear, getting his fingers through the fur and petting him.

“Luckily you’re not going anywhere, right, buddy?” He says to the dog, laughing when Zeppelin moves his head as an answer and puts a paw on Ryan’s chest. “No, of course you’re not. I wish he wouldn’t either,” Ryan whispers, “but it is what it is, right, Zep?” He sighs, closing his eyes and keeping on petting the dog, feeling somehow comforted by the big ball of fur over him, heavy and warm.

Brendon doesn’t take too long to come back, whistling and calling the dogs before he comes in, and Ryan can hear them making a racket like they always do when Brendon decides to share his energy with them. Even Zeppelin moves a little, raising his head to see what’s going on when the smell of breakfast fills in the room.

“Ryan. Breakfast,” Brendon calls with a soft voice, starting to call the dogs again, this time in a lower voice, trying to calm them. Ryan opens his eyes again and his stomach growls at the smell, making him move to straighten up. Zeppelin sees it as a sign to get down the bed, knowing his owner doesn’t need his cuddles anymore.

“Thanks,” Ryan says, looking at the tray Brendon’s carrying, the breakfast adjusting perfectly at his nutritionist demands, nothing compared with the things Brendon had prepared some other times when he has woken up at Ryan’s, mocking him and making him skip his diet ‘just this time’.

“I’m gonna take them out, okay?” Says Brendon, and Ryan sees how he’s carrying the dogs lashes too over his shoulder, squatting to put them on the dogs and asking them if they’re happy to go for a walk, promising them they’re going to have so much fun. The picture is too familiar for something Ryan won’t ever have, so he choses to pay attention to his food.

Brendon just moves his head to say goodbye before he walks out the door, and Ryan can hear him running down the stairs with all of the dogs, laughing and making noise. The house stays in absolute silence again once the main door closes behind them, and Ryan sighs and starts eating his breakfast. He’s just eaten like a half of it when he thinks about checking his phone to see what time is it and sees it’s not that early so he can call Spencer. He didn’t want to do it before because he didn’t want to wake him up, but now he knows Spencer awake for sure.

Spencer asks him how’s his thigh going first of all, and Ryan tells him a little about what they’re doing and how he’s feeling. The conversation goes around trying to cheer him up and stuff at first, but Ryan knows it’s a matter of time that Spencer asks him about Brendon, and Ryan doesn’t get into detail but tells him they had a fight and things are weird between them. Spencer doesn’t hesitate to say ‘I told you so’, starting to list all of the reasons for how letting Brendon in charge of his recovery is a bad idea, reasons Ryan already knows and doesn’t need to hear again, specially when Spencer put an emphasis on disqualifying Brendon. In the end, Ryan ends up cutting him and finishes their talk, asking Spencer if he’s going to come see him and making him promise he will behave if Brendon’s around or Ryan won’t let him set a foot in his house until he’s totally recovered. Spencer gives in just because he prefers that to fight with Ryan about it, and so he tells him. The conversation wanders to the team and how Bob call them to practice earlier today to reevaluate how they’re going to face the next games without Ryan.

Ryan can hear Brendon coming back when he’s still at the phone with Spencer, he and the dogs getting in the house like a hurricane, making the silence die ipso facto with barks and steps and laughs, the sound of the dogs drinking water like crazy, Brendon voice telling them how well they behaved, how good dogs they are. Ryan can’t help but smile like stupid and he says goodbye to Spencer just a little bit later, when they finish talking about what they were talking about, hanging up and letting the phone on the mattress near the tray. Brendon doesn’t take long to come up, Rat following him like she was his shadow, with her tongue hanging out and wiggling her tail.

“Rubén just texted me,” says Brendon still looking at his phone, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at Ryan with huge eyes. “Because yesterday, when I got home, there was a car on fire near the park. Well, it seems there was a body in it,” he says, twisting his mouth and looking back at his phone, texting. “Rubén says it was a score-settling, but it’s not like the cops investigated that or anything. Or like they’re going to…” He adds sarcastically, shaking his head and putting his phone away, looking back at Ryan. “A fucking corpse! I walked past a corpse!”

“You’re way too excited having in mind what you just told me,” says Ryan with his eyes wide open, letting out a breathy laugh and looking at Brendon in disbelief. “Does these things usually happen around Washington Park?”

“Not _usually_ …” Says Brendon, making a face and looking back, starting to count with his fingers. “I don’t know, maybe once a month. Or twice, sometimes. And I’m not excited, it’s just that I’ve never was so close to… you know.” He moves his hands to explain himself. “In fact, I think I’m in shock,” he confesses, laughing weird, chocked.

“Honestly, I’ll be afraid if you weren’t,” Ryan confesses, blinking horrified. “Good God… When do you say that you move out? I’m not sure I’m at ease knowing you’re living where things like these happen once a month. _Or twice_ ,” Ryan says quickly, stopping then and clearing his throat. “I mean. You can’t sleep peacefully after this. I know I wouldn’t.”

“I’ve been sleeping ‘peacefully’ since I live there,” says Brendon, moving his hand to play it down. “And it’s not like you didn’t know where I lived already. Nothing has changed. Bands and crimes have not just arrived to Washington Park,” he says laughing, as if he just made a joke.

“Yeah, I know. But… You know. One thing is knowing it happens and another thing, well,” he says, making a horrified face, “walking past a _corpse_ ,” he finishes, shivering. “I’ve never seen a corpse. Well… not like that, I mean. Not like walking on it in an accident or something like that.”

“Yeah, well…” Brendon nods, making a face. “It’s not like it’s my favorite place to live, either. But it’s not like I had any choice before. I’ll probably be out of there in a week, if everything goes well,” he answers to the question Ryan asked before.

“Good,” Ryan nods, swallowing and smiling a little, staying in silence then and letting the conversation die there.

Brendon doesn’t say anything either for a while, letting Rat set her paws on his lap and playing with her a little, poking at her face, playing with her ears, letting her bite and lick his hands.

“You said you wanted to talk about…” Says Brendon over the silence, moving his shoulders, keeping playing with Rat. “All of last night, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I…” Ryan takes a deep breath, looking at Brendon playing with the dog, swallowing and putting the words in order inside his head. “I’m sorry I rushed to think you were with Jacky. I didn’t think about it until… until I talked to him, but, anyway. I let myself be carried away by what I was feeling and I didn’t think… that you wouldn’t… You’re not like that. You don’t work that way."

Brendon nods, his hands still over the dog, letting her bite him but not keeping up with the game. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look like breathing until he takes a deep breath and let the air out heavy, turning around to look at Ryan.

“Maybe I overstepped a little last night…” He says when he talks, making a face, “leaving that way and reacting as I did. But I didn’t… I didn’t expect that, for you to say that, because it’s… It’s like you didn’t know me at all. Like you didn’t know what you…” Brendon closes his eyes, breathing again. “But then, at home, I thought about it. And, actually, it’s not like you had to know me, you know? Or knowing what you mean to me because, truth to be told, it’s not like we’ve ever talked about it. And I know it’s my fault for keeping thinking we had something more than what we really had, and asking you to act in consequence to a fantasy, not to the reality.” He says, looking back at Rat and smiling sad while he scratches behind her ears. “So, it was your right to think whatever you thought, because it’s normal, it’s what you usually would expect from someone which whom you just have casual sex.”

“What we had was far from casual sex already,” says Ryan, letting the words come out slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of them exploding inside his mouth if he talks too quickly. “And that’s, actually, what got us in this mess.”

Brendon nods, letting Rat go when she gets bored of not being paid attention, and he just stays there, sitting with his hands resting on the bed, looking forward.

“We agree on that, then,” he says with a soft voice, twisting his mouth. “We had something more and we stopped having it, and the we tried, or I tried, being friends but that didn’t worked out either. So I guess nothing works between us. Right?”

“I know…” Ryan starts, swallowing and looking at his lap, making a face. “I know I told you we could be friends, but. I couldn’t. Maybe when, I don’t know, everything settles down inside my head I could. I thought I would be easier but it turned out it actually wasn’t. It isn’t,” he admits, playing with the comforter between his fingers, wrinkling it and twisting it once and again.

“Okay,” Brendon nods, sighing once again and bringing his hands to his forehead, cracking his knuckles, rubbing them together. “Then, what…? How do you…? I mean, I’m going to be around for almost a month. How should I treat you, then? Or, if you want me to leave…”

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, maybe too quickly and harsh, raising his look and sighing. “I’m sorry, it’s… I don’t know, Bren. I have no idea of… What I want and what I seem to need it’s not the same. I don’t want you to stop coming here or stop talking to you or stop seeing you or… But some days it’s hard for me to act like nothing happened, because it did.” He rubs his faces when he stops talking, looking at Brendon then with his lip between his teeth. “I know I’m not making any sense right now, but… don’t leave. I can try to make things better, I promise. Unless you… If you want to leave, you don’t need to feel obligated to stay because of my injury. We can just set work hours and stay like that.”

“I’m not here because of your injury, Ryan,” Brendon huffs, covering his face with his hands and sighing, rubbing it before letting his hands fall heavy on his lap, defeated. “Do you think I’d do this for anyone in the team? It’s you… And I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to leave this job and know I’m not going to see you again because I have no excuse anymore and we’re not even friends. But I know I have to do it, and maybe it was for the best, the healthiest thing, trying to tear me apart from you knowing you’ll never…” He swallows and lowers his head, shrugging resigned. “But instead of that I get into your home and try to spend the most of the time with you knowing that will only make it worse when I have to leave. Cassie says I’m always putting myself in unnecessary danger, leaving where I live, jumping off cliffs, traveling the states hitchhiking. This is not so different."

“You are new to me,” Ryan confess, lowering his voice as if it were a secret he didn’t want anyone else to know, sighing and shutting his eyes hard when he speaks again. “You’re the first person I spend more than a night with. The first to share everything that’s happens before and after and during. I… I’ve never felt this much and I don’t know what to do with it. I only know what my body asks for and what it asks for is not to stop seeing you, even the days that doing it feels like torture. Even those days. I don’t ask you to understand me because even I don’t… I just wanna…” He stops right there, swallowing and raising a hand to push his hair out of his face. “I want to be able to be your friend if that’s all we can be. But I’m not sure if I will _know_ how to do it right now. Could you help me with that?”

Brendon laughs bitter, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, letting out a deep sigh before looking at Ryan, smiling resigned and licking his lips.

“Okay,” he answers and his voice sounds a little broken, laughing again when he nods. “Okay. Friends. Yeah, I can try it again.”

 

*

 

Ryan wasn’t expecting it to be easy, so it doesn’t surprise him when the atmosphere feels tense and uncomfortable. It’s weird, more than anything, having Brendon around at home, making it _his_ home when he’s there. Because that’s what he does. Brendon walks around organizing things, attending the dogs, ordering food or cooking sometimes, chatting with the housekeeper and giving a hand because “he knows how ungrateful these jobs are” although Ryan’s pretty sure her salary is more than okay. He gets there in the morning, right when Ryan wakes up, and just leave the house to walk the dogs and going to work, then comes back and stays until it’s time for dinner. The first two days he actually left before dinner but Ryan insisted it was absurd to go home without eating and having to wait until getting there to cook anything.

He kept his job, after Bob scold him good and Brendon came back home (Ryan’s home, not his home, or almost) dejected and falling apart. Ryan didn’t even think about it before telling him to order pizza and skip his diet for once, watching a movie together on the big screen Ryan has in his bedroom. Maybe he didn’t think about the consequences of watching the movie sitting on his bed, but Brendon kept his distance all the time and, even if it felt shocking and unlikely of him, they both managed to relax and enjoy the movie, letting the atmosphere clear up a little bit.

There was some days after that when Brendon informed Jacky finally had found an apartment and he would be moving that weekend.

“I won’t neglect you, I promise. I don’t have that many things to take anyway. And I can do it at the same hour I usually go to work, so you won’t even notice I’m not here,” had said Brendon with a big smile, bigger than the ones Ryan’s used to see now, more like the once he used to see before. Ryan liked having those smiles back, but that didn’t help to calm the burning sensation twisting inside his stomach every time Brendon talked about Jacky or his new home.

Not like Brendon talks a lot about Jacky particularly, or the new home. He just talks about him when it’s strictly necessary, like it had become a taboo between them, if Brendon had taboos. Ryan knows it shouldn’t be like that, Jacky is Brendon’s friend after all, and he’s helping him get out from a place were crimes are just around the corner, like literally. It’s complicated, however, for Ryan not to think about Jacky as someone who’s taking something that could be his, having nice gestures with Brendon, making him happy with things Ryan could do it too. And not even as a couple, but as a friend, something that Ryan is supposes to be able to be too.

And he’s doing it. More or less. More than before, that’s for sure. The atmosphere gets more relaxed, especially when Brendon treats his thigh, which is the moment when they have more physical contact. They make jokes sometimes, they’re able to look at each other’s faces without one of them needing to look away, they laugh more. Brendon laughs more. He smiles. And it’s not because of Jacky or because of the new apartment or because anything else, but because of Ryan.

Watching movies together becomes a routine after a few days, specially because it’s easier waiting for dinner discussing which one to see this time, just lying on the bed, talking, making what started being a sexual place and then an hostile one into a safe zone. They always chose movies they’ve seen already, so Ryan can enjoy Brendon’s comments and Brendon doesn’t mind going downstairs to make popcorn, although Ryan’s thinking about the possibilities of bringing a microwave to the bedroom.

“Are you scared?” asks Ryan with half a smile after seeing Brendon scream, cover his face with his hands and throw popcorn at the TV from afar since half an hour. Today was horror movie day, and it was Brendon the one who chose what to see. Ryan’s not even sure the movie is actually horror; he’s not been paying attention to the screen.

“Scared? Me? Come on, I’m just getting in the mood,” Brendon says, looking at Ryan with a smirk, moving his hand to play it down and jumping when he looks back at the TV and a ghost appears. “Fucking shit! There’s no warning!” He complains, pointing at the screen totally outraged, making impossible for Ryan to hold his laugh.

“Just getting in the mood, I see,” he mocks him, laughing more when Brendon pouts and throws popcorn at Ryan this time.

“It’s true. It doesn’t scare me. In fact,” he says, eating a handful of popcorn and chewing before keeping up talking, “it’s been long since I perfected the method to stop worrying about ghost forever. Or any evil being, actually.” He says, swallowing and looking at Ryan, who raises an eyebrow as a question. Brendon straightens up, getting ready before he speaks again. “Haven’t you noticed that, in any horror movie, book, story, whatever, no one’s sitting on the toilet?” He asks totally serious, and Ryan burst out a laugh while Brendon keeps talking. “No, no. Seriously. No horror story starts with ‘once upon a time a guy had this explosive diarrhea…’ and if you think about it, it could. I mean, that sounds terrifying,” he says looking at Ryan who cannot stop laughing, opening a smile himself before continuing. “So that’s the only thing you need to do. Ghost, demon, chainsaw maniac, it doesn’t matter, you go to the toilet and sit on it to take a dump, problem solved. It’s like an anti-evil portal. Not like the bathtub, that’s totally the antithesis, there you die for sure. Everybody dies in the bathtub, but have you heard of someone dying on the toilet? See, I’m such a genius,” he says with a satisfying smile, tapping with his finger on his temple.

“Such a genius,” Ryan repeats while he’s still trying to ease his laugh, grabbing one of his popcorn and throwing it at Brendon. This one, using his absurdly unbelievable reflexes, moves his head and catches it with his mouth.

He smirks at Ryan while he chews, feeding his ego at the same time he feeds himself, making Ryan’s blood rush in a way that shouldn’t happen between friends. Maybe throwing popcorn at each other is not the best game to play for them.

They watch the rest of the movie without more popcorn flying except towards the TV, with Brendon’s comments and Ryan’s laughs, keeping the distance on the bed but being closer than they’ve been these past days. The final credits are rolling, the popcorn bowls are empty and some of them are decorating Ryan’s floor when Brendon speaks again.

“I move out tomorrow,” he says, rubbing the tip of his finger against the bottom of his bowl to take the salt there and bringing it to his mouth, sucking and taking it out with a pop before looking at Ryan, his finger back to the bottom of the bowl. “And guess what. I’m just half an hour from the stadium by bus. And fifteen minutes from here. Goodbye to take the train two hours everyday. I can’t even believe it,” he laughs, opening a big smile. Ryan can’t help but feeling his chest tightening, but he smiles too because Brendon’s smile is contagious.

“I’m happy for you,” he says sincere, looking at Brendon. “And if… if you need not to come for a few days to organize yourself and stuff, it’s okay. Or just coming to do the exercises. I won’t be alone. Spencer comes here almost every day, they guys come too sometimes. Even Ginger came once,” he adds, opening his smile.

“Oh… Okay,” Brendon nods, twisting his lips and looking back at his empty bowl. “Yeah, whatever you want. I can do that,” he says, shrugging and looking back at Ryan again, smiling a little. “Ginger came? From Vegas? Or does she lives here too?”

“She lives here,” says Ryan, looking at Brendon and letting out a laugh. “And it’s not that I want you not to come for a few days or to come less.” He’s about to say that it’s exactly the opposite, but he stops himself on time. “Just that, if you need to… You’re not forced to be locked up here with me.”

“Okay,” Brendon nods again, taking one of the corn seed that didn’t popped and bringing it to his mouth to crack it with his teeth. He keeps looking at the bowl for a while, moving it and making the seeds roll, playing with it. When he rises is head he takes Ryan’s and puts it under his own, starting to move to get up. “I should get going. It’s getting late,” he says, kneeling to pick up the popcorn over the floor.

“Oh. Um. Okay,” Ryan nods, trying no to sound as disappointed as he feels. Each day was a little harder for him when the moment he realized Brendon wasn’t going to stay there forever came, but he was getting better at hiding it. “You know of some day, I don’t know, if. Um. There’s like a million rooms, if some time you don’t want to… I mean. You go home late and you come really early, and it’s absurd when there’s so much space here,” he offers, chewing at his lip and looking at Brendon anxious. “Just if you don’t have anything else to do at home, of course. It’s… just an idea.”

Brendon rises his head from where he is, looking at him for a second and laughing short before lowering it down again, finishing picking up the popcorn, leaving the bowls on the same tray they bring up the dinner.

“That offer would have been so much better before I moved out, actually,” Brendon says, twisting his lips and taking the tray. “From now on it’s going to be easier for me to come and go.”

“Ah, yeah. Of course,” Ryan nods, lowering his look at the same time as his shoulders, his cheeks blushing. He hopes Brendon can’t see it from where he is, but he lets his hair fall over his face a little, just in case, letting out a forced laugh. “So stupid, right? I didn’t think about it until now, but well, yeah. It doesn’t matter anymore,” he shrugs and holds himself on the mattress to move a little, keeping his legs over the pillows where it is, just straightening up a bit.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, making a move with his shoulders and smiling a little. “Hey, tomorrow morning, when I come, be ready, okay?” he says, smiling wider. “Because you’re going to come down to open the door.”

Ryan looks up surprised, his eyes wide open and his eyebrows raised, processing the information for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Come down? Like using the stairs?” He asks stupidly, because it’s not like there’s an elevator he can take or it was clever to jump off the balcony. Brendon laughs short and nods.

“Using the stairs. And you’ll probably notice a little drop in your bank account. I guess.” He adds, making a face. “Because I ordered the machines we need and they’ll arrive tomorrow or the day after. Staying in bed is over, Ross. You’re gonna start to move that ass.”

“I can walk?” he asks hopeful, a smile opening on his face and his eyes going from surprised to excited.

“Your leg’s not broken, idiot. You’re a little overdramatic sometimes,” Brendon laughs, nodding again. “You could walk before too, it just wasn’t convenient. Now you can and you _should_. That said, don’t get too excited. Just walking. I’ll keep walking the dogs myself, and maybe I’ll let you come some day to supervise you.”

“I already told you I was overdramatic, you can’t blame me,” he says, taking Brendon’s word and starting to move to get up the bed, even if it’s just to stand up for ten minutes and lay back down again. “Also, it was you the one who had me imprisoned in this bed, so I _couldn’t_ walk. You’re scary when you threaten me. I can, can’t I? My ass is numb.”

“You can. You can do anything that doesn’t hurt,” nods Brendon, pressing his lips together when his cheeks blush fast. “And I didn’t have you imprisoned in your bed…” he murmurs, looking away and to the injured thigh. “It doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Nope,” Ryan answers like a kid who just got permission to go play with his toys, standing up and walking a few steps near the edge of the bed, smiling big at Brendon and making a victory sound. “I never thought I’d be so happy to leave the bed.”

Brendon makes a noise through his nose that seems like something between a laugh and a mockery, observing Ryan a few seconds before moving towards the door, opening it and stopping there, looking back at Ryan.

“Well, what? Are you going to walk me to the door or not?” he asks with a smirk when he makes a move with his hand to make Ryan follow him. Ryan’s face lightens when he smiles and nods, walking towards Brendon with slow steps because it feels weird to be up after so many days in bed.

Brendon waits until he’s right next to him, starting to walk at his pace, telling Ryan how he has to do it and mocking him saying he’s like a toddler learning how to walk. They go downstairs taking probably three times more what a normal person would take, Brendon holding the tray with just a hand and leaving the other one behind Ryan but not touching him, just as a safety, just in case he trips. They’re on the last steps when Brendon jumps them down and goes to the kitchen in a second, leaving the tray and coming back before Ryan’s finishing coming down, waiting for him with a smile and clapping and cheering.

“Don’t mock me, idiot,” says Ryan between laughs, huffing because of the effort and looking back at the stairs that never seemed that long in his life. “God, you have no idea how much I want to put on my skates,” he says when he looks at one of the picture hanging on the walls, the Boby Orr one.

“Soon. I promise.” Brendon smiles, putting his bag over his shoulder and walking to the main door, letting Ryan take a few steps up before opening it. “See you tomorrow. Be careful climbing them up now, going up is easier than going down anyway,” he says, moving his head towards the stairs.

“Okay,” Ryan nods, smiling at him and moving his hand as a goodbye. However, before Brendon can get out, he speaks again, stepping up. “Hey, Bren. About the… The offer still holds. If some day, you know, you lose the bus or, or you don’t feel like taking it or. Whatever,” he shrugs. Brendon looks at him and nods, smiling a little and making a face, thinking about it as he leans on the doorframe.

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that. Amanda’s moving in too in a few days and I’m sure she and Jacky want to celebrate the new apartment,” he says, laughing a little. “I thought about staying with Cassie, you know, to give them privacy. But…” He moves his hand towards Ryan, referring his offer.

“Yeah, sure! Stay here,” he says, maybe too excited for what it’s considered normal since they’re just friends. “Whenever you want and as long as you want.”

Brendon nods again, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and smiling small before saying goodbye and leaving, closing the door behind him. Ryan sighs and turns around, finding Aunt Em looking at him with a resigned face.

“What? Am I that bad with this friendship thing?” he asks offended, and the dog just looks at him for a few seconds before turning around and run up the corridor. Ryan takes it as answer enough.

Coming back upstairs feels harder than coming down, maybe because Brendon’s not there with him anymore, or because his muscles are tired for the way down. The question is that when he goes back to the bed, his thigh feels more tired than before, and Ryan guesses that was enough action for today.

The next morning, however, it feels totally recovered when Ryan goes back downstairs at the hearing of the doorbell instead of Brendon’s voice as usual. Praised be those night concoctions Brendon makes him put on his thigh, they work miracles. He finds Brendon right there, with a big suitcase and an extra bag, bigger than the one he uses to bring with him. Brendon smiles and comes in with more energy than the usual. This time he doesn’t hold back telling every detail to Ryan about the apartment, about Jacky, about how excited he is for having a TV that works fine and a shower that doesn’t clog up every now and then.

He works part of the daily treatment right there in the living room, talking non-stop while he massages Ryan, cheering him up and telling him how things go with the team while Ryan does his active exercises after breakfast. It’s not like Ryan didn’t know already how everything’s going thanks to Spencer’s daily reports through the phone, but it’s always fun to hear anything that comes from Brendon.

It’s impossible to control the bitter taste that forms in the bottom of his tongue when Brendon says they’re going to play the first game of the playoffs soon, more now knowing Brendon will have to go with the team and, for now on, his job will get more demanding (specially after what happened with Ryan). Ryan’s trying not to think about it too much because his mood has been getting better day by day thanks to the progress he’s achieving and having Brendon there. The only thought of his team starting the playoffs without him makes his good mood go to waste.

“In the end I had more things that I thought,” says Brendon while they eat, now in the dining room after a whole week eating in bed like a convalescent. “The hardest thing was the photos. I have to find another way to put them on the wall without damaging them, even if I’ve got the digital copy of most of them. And yeah, I’ve heard about picture frames. Do you know how much money would I have to spend in picture frames?” Brendon asks, shaking his head before standing up to start clearing the table.

“You can buy one of those where you can put a few pictures in one,” says Ryan, moving slowly but standing up too to help Brendon. “My mom had those all over the house.”

“But that way I wouldn’t be able to arrange them the way I want,” Brendon frowns, taking things from Ryan’s hands and walking to the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher. “It’s easy for you to say. You just have huge pictures of sweaty guys playing hockey. A very heterosexual decoration, by the way,” he adds with a mocking smile, “you just need one of those huge phallic sculptures from a tribe that doesn’t exist and that are just the exotic pretext to have a cock in you living room.”

Ryan laughs while he walks to the kitchen with the two glasses in his hands, leaving them over the counter and smirking at Brendon.

“I’ve never said I was straight,” he says shrugging. “It’s really easy to make people see what they wanna see. I just never said I liked guys too. People made the rest. Also,” he adds, turning around to go back to the room, “I just have two of those pictures. I’ve got photos, just not hanging everywhere.”

“The photos of you playing hockey are still sweaty guys playing hockey pictures, just includes also that narcissistic touch all of you sport players seem to have.” Brendon laughs, walking to one of the sofas in the living room to sit there. “And yeah, I know your policy, ‘don’t ask/don’t tell’ about the straight or not straight thing, you don’t need to remind me…” he adds, making a move with his hand. Ryan laughs again, sitting with a sigh and looking at one of the pictures Brendon’s talking about.

“It’s artistic,” says Ryan, pointing at the picture of him skating, where you can mostly see a skate from that perspective. It’s like the camera were on the ice and the blade were just inches away from the lens. The rest of the picture is out of focus, making the clear skate the main piece of the picture. “You wouldn’t even know it’s me if I hadn’t tell you.”

“I’d know it’s some dude skating, which is really the same thing,” Brendon says, moving on the couch to open the bag he had left at its side, taking out a shoe box and leaving it on his lap. “This is the kind of art I like,” he says, opening the box and taking out some of the Polaroids he keeps there, going over some of them until he finds huge landscapes, blue skies, red rocks, snow, sea. “It’s not that I have something against your pictures of dudes. I have pictures of dudes too. Probably more than you,” he adds, laughing.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t offend me calling me _just some dude skating_ ,” Ryan jokes, getting closer beside Brendon and reaching with his hands for Brendon to give him some of the photos. He already saw them hanging on Brendon’s wall, but he was used to see them when he was at Brendon’s, and it’s been long since that. Brendon laughs, choosing some of them and giving them to Ryan, keeping the rest to watch them himself.

“In the great scheme of my life, you’re just some dude skating, Ryan,” he says, mocking him, sticking out his tongue before pointing at one of the pictures Ryan has. “This was in Mexico. This is Jacky,” he points at a guy in some of the pictures. “He’s changed a lot, uh? I’ve got to show them to Amanda when she comes.”

Ryan keeps watching the pictures, putting at the bottom of the pack the ones he’s seen already, observing the new details he didn’t pay attention to before, too busy looking at Brendon in all of them. He finishes watching the Mexico ones and goes to another, also from some trip. There’s a huge cliff in one of them, a deserted landscape in some others.

“Did you jump off this one?” he asks, mildly joking, looking at Brendon with an eyebrow raised. Brendon laughs and takes the picture, looking at it.

“Not this one. They didn’t let me. But we border it in kayak,” he says, tracing the way with his finger. “This is Michigan. The picture doesn’t do justice to it.”

Ryan keeps watching the pictures, commenting some of them, laughing at Brendon’s face in some others, asking where was it taken and listening if Brendon has some story about it. He feels like Brendon has seen a lot of things and he’s seen so little. Which is probably true. Brendon gives him a new pack, another rocky place with greenery and lakes, a lot less spectacular than the one before but as pretty.

“This is Santa Barbara. Jumping off here is great, and it’s not too high, the deep of the lake is perfect. Even you could do it,” he mocks Ryan with a smile, giving him a couple more photos. “No, really. We should go some day. I mean,” he moves his hand and gets a little tense, rushing to correct himself. “You. You should go. Some day. It’s. It’s really cool,” he nods, taking more pictures to watch, stopping when he gets to one, making a face. “Oh. Jeez, I didn’t know he was in this one…” Brendon looks a Ryan for a second, showing him the picture quickly as if it didn’t matter, pointing with his finger to a guy in the background of a beautiful green landscape. “This is Shane,” Brendon says, and he tears the photo into pieces right away, crumpling them and throwing them in the box. “I thought I got rid of all of them long ago, I should have skipped that one.”

“Some asshole?” Ryan asks with a smile, looking at Brendon with curiosity but keeping up watching the pictures in his hands.

“Yeah, something like that,” Brendon answers. “We were together for three years. He took a lot of these pictures, actually,” he explains as he keeps looking at the Polaroids now paying more attention. “It didn’t work out.”

“Oh.” Ryan goes back to pay attention to the pictures in his hands. Three years. Ryan hasn’t shared even three nights in a row; he can’t even begin to imagine how would it be to share three years with someone. He’s share so much more years with Spencer, he still does, but that’s totally different. The idea of Brendon going away is an agony and they met just months ago, he doesn’t even want to think about how it would be if it were years. He doesn’t know what happened between Brendon and that guy, but it doesn’t look like it was pretty.

Brendon doesn’t say anything else about the subjet, going back to the pictures and his stories, putting away the ones they’ve already seen, taking the last pack in his hands and watching them. These ones are from Cassie’s wedding and Ryan remembers paying attention to those more than the others.

“Oh. I think you didn’t get to see this one,” says Brendon, smiling small and giving one of them to Ryan. “Cassie made it be developed in a Polaroid style to match the rest on the wall. It was with the wedding ones because I wasn’t sure about where to put it and it fitted perfect to close the heart shape up in the center.”

Ryan takes the picture and look at it frowning, confused, until he sees the image in front of him. An almost inaudible ‘oh’ comes out of his lips when he sees himself sitting in Cassie’s back yard with Joanna in his arms, so tiny compared to Ryan. He could almost hold her with just a hand, if it wasn’t because he was terrified of dropping her down. His face shows it, because he’s not even looking at the camera, he’s staring at the baby with a face that’s not a full smile. Brendon is smiling, huge, with the plush he bought for her placed on Ryan’s shoulder, his whole face lightened.

He feels something weird twisting inside him, watching him there with Brendon, watching him beaming and thinking he felt the same way that morning. He hasn’t been able to erase that morning from his memory, as if his brain were stuck right there. He swallows and looks at Brendon for a second, laughing nervous, clearing his throat before speaking.

“I really look terrified, uh?” He says, looking back at the picture, unable to stop alternate his look from his face to Brendon’s. Brendon laughs and moves closer, holding the picture but not taking it from Ryan’s hand.

“No way, you don’t look that bad,” he says, laughing and tapping at his face in the picture. “Not as good as I look, but… No, I’m kidding. I’m just playing the clown. Like I always do,” he adds, laughing again and shrugging.

“No,” Ryan shakes his head, laughing again while he looks at the picture, biting his lip. “You look…” He stops himself right there before he can say what he actually thinks, clearing his throat. “You look good.”

Brendon smiles, making a move with his head to play it down and not saying anything else, just looking at the rest of the pictures in his hands before putting them away in the box. He looks at Ryan then, pointing at the picture with his head.

“You can keep it, if you want to. If you feel like having a memento from one of the worse moments of you life,” he laughs, taking the box away from his lap. “I can ask Cassie to make another copy for me.”

Ryan looks at him and at the picture again, probably the only picture of Brendon he would ever have, the only where it’s also Ryan. He nods when he looks back at Brendon, leaving it over the table and smiling at him.

“Thanks,” he says, trying to get rid of the weird feeling inside him, leaning back on the couch. “I’ll keep it with the rest of the pictures that I do have and that are not just hockey,” he says with a snotty voice, making a face.

“To say more times doesn’t make it more real. Admit it. This is the first one of your collection,” Brendon jokes with half a smile, taking his bag to put the bag in it again. Ryan pushes him, not too hard but enough to make him shift. Brendon lets out a laugh, looking at him with huge eyes and an accusing finger pointing at him. “See? That’s absolutely the reaction of someone who doesn’t have any pictures that are not just hockey,” he says, starting to laugh and shrinking over himself to prevent more attacks from Ryan.

“Shut up, idiot,” says Ryan laughing. “I’ve got four dogs. Do you really think I won’t have any pictures of those fur balls? Also, I have some from college and even some of those moms always take when you’re little, butt naked.”

Brendon look at him, loosing his joking mood a little but keeping his smile, even if it’s smaller now, making a face.

“Then you have two kinds of pictures I don’t,” he says, snorting a laugh and leaving the bag between his legs on the floor and shifting a little. You went to college? Like to do a degree and stuff? I thought sport stars were genius kids who came to the world already playing whatever they play.”

“That’s more Spencer’s style,” says Ryan, laughing and shrugging. “I was there for a year. I got in with a hockey scholarship and I played with the university team during that time. Then I was signed up by a minor league and I dropped out to play hockey full time.”

“Wow. It seems like I’m not the only one full of surprises,” Brendon jokes, standing up and picking up his bag. “I don’t really know too much about you, now that I think about it,” he says like he just realized that. “I should get going home. I’ll probably come back at the same time as always, but I let you some exercises in your mail in case I’m late, or if you want to do them on your own.”

“Oh. Um, okay,” Ryan nods, standing up too and rubbing his hands on his sweatpants. “And your not missing much, actually… There are no exotic trips or jumping off cliffs in my life,” he laughs.

“Red Rocks, Santa Barbara. Hear me out,” says Brendon, walking to his big suitcase, taking it to walk towards the door. “Find an opening and go there. You’re going to like it, I promise.”

“I’ll take note,” Ryan nods, and he omits the rest of the sentence when he thinks he could really use the help of someone who’s been already there.

 

*

 

Some days later, Ryan finds himself in a situation that never, since the Hounds signed him up, thought possible. He’s sitting on his couch at home, with his huge TV turned on the proper channel, ready to watch for the first time, from the outside and not from the field, a game where his team plays. He’s going to watch the game, not play it.

It feels weird, being there knowing what his teammates are doing right now, the words Bob will be speaking, the little rituals every player follows before the game to focus. It’s weird to know this and not being there to hear it and see it. Brendon said that, if he wanted to, he could keep him informed if something important happened, text him the news, the rival’s weak points, his own prediction, “and you know I’m awesome at that, if I say you’ll wing, you’ll win.” Ryan agreed to it, even though he wanted to watch the game anyway. No matter the lump in his throat and how much the need of being there playing is eating him from the inside.

The dogs are gathered all around him for moral support, and Ryan has his phone close to his leg on the couch since the moment the team set a foot on the ice and the game starts. He can almost hear the blades scratching the ice, the heat inside his body contrasting with the cold on the outside, the rush in his veins, the sweat under his uniform.

Bob has decided to play more offensively, almost aggressive attacking, as Spencer already told Ryan, to cover the lack of Ryan’s defense and try to stop the rival’s game from the center of the rink. Not giving them a chance, not letting them go past the Hounds’ defensive area. The commentators notice this too, and they call on Ryan’s absence as the reason of the change of strategy, saying they gain in power but their game’s not as beautiful as before. Ryan flips off the TV.

They finish the first period with the game scoreless, and Ryan gets a text from Brendon telling him to pay attention to Spencer, because he’s going to stand out, adding that he’s been so aggressive it almost bites Brendon when he was massaging his arm, finishing with a smiling emoji. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, talking to the dogs about how he’s seeing the game and the team, more nervous that he’s ever been watching a hockey game.

Tom and Blake give their best and, despite the incessant remarks about their weak points, Ryan sees his teammates doing a pretty good job defending. However, when the second period starts, Ryan pays attention to Spencer, as Brendon told him, who is clearly standing out. The audience cheer every time he touches the puck, and the commenters talk about what a great game he’s playing. He gets to score three times, giving them advantage over the rival, and it’s almost seems like he has taken an adrenaline injection before the game, because he’s moving fast like hell.

The game comes to its last ten minutes with the Hounds winning just by one score, and Ryan thinks he’s going to pass out if they’ll have to go overtime. It’s the longest ten minutes of his life, sitting almost on the edge of his couch, chewing at his lip over and over again. But, when there’s just two minutes left, Spencer dodge the rival with a quick shift and, showing off his skills, he hits the puck hard after an auto-pass with the wall, sending the cookie right to the bottom of the net, giving the Hounds an advantage of two scores, sentencing the game. Ryan’s cheering and shouting with his hands on his head and an unbelieving face when they announce the end of the game, and he lets himself fall on the couch with a relieved sigh and a huge smile on his face.

His phone rings with a text from Brendon telling him congratulations, full of exclamation points and multicolored hearts. The next text clears up that those are friendship hearts. And the last one asks Ryan if he wants Brendon to come over when they get to Chicago. They’re not far away; it’ll be a matter of hours. Ryan answers with a ‘yes, please’ and adds some kissing emojis, not bothering in explaining if they’re friendship kisses because fuck lies. It’s going to be hard not kissing him in person when he crosses his door already.

It’s late when Brendon gets there, almost at the same hour he usually goes home, and he knocks the door and rings the doorbell all at once. Luckily Ryan doesn’t have close neighbors to complain about the noise, the only ones who start riot are the dogs, but they weren’t asleep yet anyway, probably because of Ryan’s energy outburst when he saw the team win the game. Brendon’s not wearing his working outfit when Ryan opens the door; in fact he’s dressed to go out, with his skinny jeans, his dark t-shirt and the leather jacket on. His hair is a bit messy, that’s true, and he’s got this stupid smile on his face, his eyes too shiny. Ryan has to admit his lungs stop working a little bit.

“Go, Hounds!!” Brendon shouts, or sings, or something like that, because he puts some melody in his tone while he raises an arm in sign of victory, laughing then. “I’ve been celebrating with the guys. Just a little. Just on the bus. They’re still celebrating.” Brendon explains, looking at Ryan from head to toe and tilting his head. “Can I come in?”

Ryan laughs and steps aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and repressing the urge of grabbing him by his leather jacket and pull him in for a hug, a kiss, whatever.

“It’s just the first one, they should be careful,” he says, reminding himself of Bob and making a face then. “Bah. God, I think I’ve never been this nervous watching a game in my life.”

“Nervous? Ry, you don’t even know what’s nervous. You don’t know how everyone was there, and fuck, I’ve never worked so much in my life,” he says, stretching his hands and moving his fingers, whining. “My whole upper body hurts, it’s like I got all the tension I’ve relieved. I’ll give myself a massage, but just thinking about it makes me shiver. Thank God I’m free tomorrow,” he sighs, walking until letting himself fall on the first couch he finds, letting the dogs get all over him and starting to grab their faces and play with them. “Your dogs, honestly. Have you see them? Have you seen such beautiful dogs? And so perfect? And so…” He groans, grabbing them to start kissing them and hugging them, so much all of them end up running away, even Rat.

“What have you drunk?” Ryan asks amused, going to the couch and sitting besides Brendon, looking at him with a stupid smile he hopes Brendon’s too euphoric to notice.

“Nahh, nothing. A couple of drinks. It was-It was Spencer, you know?” He says, opening his eyes big and straightening up a little. “And I could say no so he could hate me even more. So I drank what he gave me, but nothing, just a little. Because I said. I said, Spencer, I don’t want to drink now because I’m going to Ryan’s later and I want to celebrate with him. If he wants. If you want, I mean. You shouldn’t drink much, anyway,” he wants, twisting his lips. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, getting up the couch and going to the kitchen.

He takes a pack of beers from the fridge to bring it back to the living room and the opener from the drawer too, sitting back beside Brendon and opening the two bottles, handing one to him.

“To the Hounds,” he says, feeling a little down now that the euphoria has passed. He thinks about his teammates celebrating and sighs, but he looks at Brendon again and smiles a little. At least he’s got him to celebrate. Brendon takes the bottle and clinks it with Ryan’s, raising it before bringing it to his lips.

“You should have seen them…” Brendon says shaking his head and letting it fall a bit on the back of the couch. “They were more tensed up than I’ve ever seen them. I don’t know if it’s always like that, but… Your name didn’t stop popping up.”

“Popping up?” Ryan asks, lowering his gaze before drinking his beer. Brendon nods, smiling.

“They love you a lot. The team. You were there even if you were here,” he says, drinking again and leaving the beer on the closer table. “You never let them down, so now was the time for them to not let you down. That’s what I head, at least.”

Ryan looks at him, shocked by Brendon’s words, and he swallows the lump in his throat, lowering his gaze again and fixing it on the beer label, pocking at it with his nail on a corner. Brendon gets a bit closer, his legs brushing Ryan’s, raising an arm to rest his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, looking at it as he squeezes before looking back at Ryan.

“You deserve that. Because you’re one of the most… _amazing_ people I’ve ever met,” Brendon says, moving his hand down and back up, stroking Ryan’s arm. “And you deserve those friends and that team, and to win every game and get yourself the Stanly Cup. And you don’t deserve anything getting on your way to get those things,” he says, shaking his head no. “And you’ll have it. I promise. And I’ll be there to see you. So it has to be this season,” he says, losing his serious tone a bit, laughing soft and almost bitter,” because God knows where I will be the next one.”

Ryan laughs a little but it seems that all that tension, the emotions mixed due to the injury and not being able to play overwhelms him when Brendon says those things. He needs to rub his eyes so he can focus his sight again, clearing his throat and drinking beer one more time, not really knowing what to say to that. It seems like Brendon doesn’t need him to say anything, because he makes a face and gets closer, taking the beer bottle from Ryan’s hand and leaving both of them over the table before whispering ‘come here’ and putting his arms around him.

Ryan sighs shaky and grabs Brendon tight, closing his eyes and breathing deep to fill up his lungs, letting it out little by little. He hugs Brendon fisting the leather of the back of his jacket, burying his face on Brendon’s neck and letting the warmth, the scent and the feeling of having him around calm him. Brendon hugs back the same way, holding him tight and surrounding him all over, taking one of his hands up to cradle Ryan’s neck, letting his fingers tangle a little with Ryan’s hair, moving his head to leave a few shy kisses on his temple.

Ryan stays like that until he can control his breath and his body gets back to normal, the lump in his throat dissolving and his muscles relaxing. He keeps hugging Brendon just a few more seconds, just to be that close to him, making it as long as he can and getting away slowly when he does. Brendon takes his hands away when he feels Ryan moving back, moving him apart too and clearing his throat, taking his beer from the table to drink.

“Thanks,” says Ryan with a small voice, still looking at Brendon and rubbing his hands on his pants in a nervous gesture. “For… for what you said. It’s. Um. It means a lot to me. Really.”

“I just spoke the truth,” says Brendon, shrugging and making a face, leaving the bottle over the table and looking at one of the windows in the room. “It’s not… Um. I probably didn’t plan this well enough, with all of the euphoria. Or I did. Eh.” Brendon clears his throat, rubbing one of his cheeks before bringing it to his neck. “The thing is there’s no buses to come back home now. And, well, I’m saying it not because I want to leave already, but… If I’m going to leave, I have to call Jacky to tell him to come get me and it’ll be for the best to call him before it’s so late it’s legal for him to kill me if I do it.”

Ryan laughs a little, getting rid of the last bits of tension in his body and taking a deep breath, looking at Brendon with his lip between his teeth.

“Well,” he says, his voice careful but with a bit of hope around the edges that he’s sure Brendon would notice, “we still have a movie to watch, and four more beers. And I don’t have any guests, so… the rooms are empty.”

Brendon smiles and nods, taking his beer more decided now and finishing it before getting up the couch.

“Let’s go for that movie,” he says, making a face suddenly and sitting back again, looking at Ryan as he blushes. “Or, I mean, we can watch it here. It’s not… It’s, you know, I’m used to…”

“No, it’s cool,” Ryan says, playing it down with his hand and making a face. “In fact, I was going to ask you if you minded watching it upstairs. My muscles have suffered a lot of tension today during the game… I’m tired.”

“If you want to go sleep already or… I don’t mind,” says Brendon, standing up again and twisting his hands together. “Or I can do something for you, help you release some tension,” he says, making a gesture and running to clear up. “On your muscles, I mean. Like, to help you relax, I can give you a hand in bed or.” Brendon frowns, bringing a hand to his forehead and twisting his lips, shaking his head. “I promise this is the alcohol talking.”

Ryan can’t help but laugh while he gets up the couch, shaking his head and biting his lips just to stop laughing. Watching Brendon stumbling with his words is really cute, and he would tell him if he didn’t thought that would make things worse.

“Don’t worry, come on,” he says, reaching to hold Brendon’s hand automatically, pulling at him when he starts walking. “You’ve already worked a lot today. I just need to lie down; I’m more confortable upstairs. Just that. We can watch that movie.”

Brendon nods, choking words like ‘yeah, sure, cool’, letting Ryan guide him upstairs and to the bedroom without releasing his hand. Brendon gets away from Ryan the moment he lets his hand go, walking around the bed to the other side and grabbing one of the pillows, sitting cross legged and resting his back on another pillow, leaving the one he grabbed hugged against his chest and between his legs. Ryan watches him with a confused face but he laughs, shaking his head and getting on his side of the bed, placing his pillow in place so he can rest his leg on it when he lies down too.

“Is the remote on that nightstand?” Ryan asks when he looks around but doesn’t find it. Brendon looks too and nods, taking it and handing it to Ryan, taking then his leather jacket and throwing it at one of the chairs not to far away.

“Hey, do you mind if I cover myself a little?” Brendon asks. “It seems that now that I’m cooling down the heat. Because of the alcohol, I mean,” he adds, closing his eyes and shaking his head, resigned. “I’m a bit cold.” He concludes, sighing a little. Ryan looks at him biting his lips not to smile, nodding and murmuring ‘sure, cover yourself’ before looking back at the TV, surfing through the channels. Brendon thanks him, moving a little before taking off his shoes, unbuttoning his jeans to be more comfortable before getting inside the covers, staying sat anyway but leaving the pillow he was holding aside.

They get confortable in bed and Ryan turns off the lights when the movie starts, reaching with his arm for the covers to put them over him too, trying to ignore the warmth gathering under them because of the heat Brendon’s body radiates, swallowing and giving Brendon a quick look before going back to the TV. The movie is distracting enough, and Brendon’s comments here and there make the atmosphere lighter.

He doesn’t comment so often, though, and Ryan just needs to take a look at him to see how every fifteen minutes Brendon’s more and more cuddled against the pillows, his body slipping down, his face sleepy. Ryan turns down the volume of the movie slyly, leaving the room almost in silence, the mumble of voices becoming more like a background noise. Brendon doesn’t take long to fall, literally, asleep, his body totally lying down now with his hair messy against the pillows, curling up in a fetal position, facing Ryan and hugging one of the pillows.

Ryan looks at him and sighs, keeping his head turned aside to look at him instead of the TV, the changing lights reflecting on Brendon’s face and creating shadows on his skin. Ryan moves a hand, slowly, pushing a lock of hair away from Brendon’s face, swallowing while he watches Brendon’s relaxed and calm features, the curve of his nose, his lips. Brendon opens his eyes suddenly, grabbing one of Ryan’s wrists and pulling at him to hold his arm as he was holding the pillow.

“Ryan,” he says low but determined. “You have to mail that sand. Your blue is in my head,” he says, nodding absolutely sure of what he’s saying before closing his eyes again.

Ryan presses his lips together not to burst out a laugh, shifting again to get more confortable now that Brendon has one of his arms prisoned. He stays like that for a while, watching Brendon, adjusting their breathings at the same pace, until the need of sleep gets his eyelids heavy. He turns off the TV then, leaving the remote over the nightstand and pulling the covers up to his chin, closing his eyes and imagining Brendon’s silhouette now that he can’t see it in the dark.

 

*

 

Ryan wakes up with the sound of the rain hitting the glass of his windows. That’s the first thing he hears, the incessant falling of water drops out there, the soft sound they make when they hit the windows. The rest of the house remains in silence and he can’t even hear the dogs. It should probably means it’s too early in the morning for them to be awake, or maybe they found something downstairs to get busy with.

The second thing he hears, and for that he needs to pay more attention, is Brendon’s deep breathing. And he hears it because it’s too close to him, what takes him to the next level of sensation: feeling. What he feels is Brendon’s weight almost trapping him against the mattress, not giving him room to move. Not that Ryan wants to go nowhere, actually. He feels Brendon’s legs tangled with his own, and Brendon’s arm resting across his chest. Ryan moves with his eyes still closed, automatically, with half of his brain still sleeping, resting his hand over Brendon’s arm and getting closer to him with a sigh.

It’s like Brendon’s reacted immediately, using the arm across Ryan’s chest to hug him and get him closer, pressing his face against Ryan’s neck, making a hoarse, low sound from his throat. The angle changes, and Brendon rolls his hips against Ryan’s, making him feel something hard and hot against the bone. Ryan lets an almost inaudible sound come out his throat, and turns his head around to meet Brendon’s hair there, burying his nose in it.

Suddenly it’s like something in his brain activated, or like he woke up and was aware of what’s happening and with whom, how this is not allowed between them anymore. Ryan stays very still while he opens his eyes, blinking fast and moving away enough to see Brendon’s still asleep.

His whole body’s screaming for him not to move from where he is, to get closer, to shut his eyes again and push against Brendon’s body until he wakes up and their own acts take them to the only place this can get. And Ryan wants to do that, desperately. So desperately he feels his body heating up, his temperature rising, making him bite his lip and look again at Brendon’s calm sleepy face. Ryan’s pants must have rolled up his leg, because he can feel Brendon’s skin on skin. And, if Ryan remembers well, Brendon went to sleep with jeans, jeans that don’t seem to be where they originally were.

Ryan shuts his eyes for a moment, turning his face so he can leave a kiss buried in Brendon’s hair, gathering all of his strength to move away from him. He moves carefully not to wake him up, getting away from his body but still resting his arm over his, untangling their legs and swallowing because of how hard this is. It’s been so long since he woke up like this, getting away from this is like tearing apart a piece of him.

Brendon moves and moves his hand, touching Ryan’s chest while he frowns. He slides it down Ryan’s body, and he just opens his eyes when his hand falls from Ryan’s arm to the mattress, looking at him and blinking slowly. He lets a little groan out while he huffs, bringing a hand to his face and closing his eyes again, rubbing his face before he lowers his hand a little, looking at Ryan.

“Shit, I fell asleep here,” he says with a sleepy voice, starting to move slowly, still grazing some places of Ryan’s body. He blushes suddenly, opening his eyes huge just a second before he turns away his hips, getting apart and repeating ‘shit’, although this time it’s just a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t thought… Didn’t thought I’d fall asleep so soon…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ryan cuts him, clearing his throat when this comes out hoarse, looking at Brendon with a little smile. “It’s fine, don’t. It’s okay. Really.” His body tells him that, technically, it does matter, especially between his legs, but Ryan decides to ignore it for a greater good.

“Okay. Okay…” Brendon nods, even if he doesn’t look so sure, moving a little more and frowning. He stands up a little, looking around as if he were looking for something, then looking under the covers, growling and letting his head fall on the pillow. “Wait a… My jeans,” he says before disappearing under the covers, groping for his jeans. Ryan watches his silhouette under the comforter and prays to every God not to let Brendon see what’s happening under his pants. When Brendon comes out, his hair could be shelter to a family of birds, and he rubs his face with his hand, getting the jeans out to let them balled up over the covers. “At least they’re not freezing cold now…” He says, sighing and moving his head to look at Ryan. “I’m sorry about this too. It’s a habit, getting naked in bed. I mean, because I usually sleep nak-… Anyway. I’m sorry I took them off while I was sleeping. I didn’t mean it.”

Ryan nods and makes a gesture to play it down, looking at him while he chews at the inside of his lips compulsively, tense under the covers, trying to get his muscles back to normal and his body to stop reading anything Brendon does in the worst way ever. He clears his throat and pushes his hair out of his face, moving a little under the sheets just to test how his thigh is feeling.

He stands up a little then, but still letting the comforter cover up his waist for more than obvious reasons, pushing down his t-shirt where it’s rolled up and looking at Brendon again, smiling at him.

“Good morning, by the way,” he says, putting his fingers through his hair to try combing it out a little. Brendon laughs through his nose and nods, still lying down, just his head a little up on the pillows.

“Yeah, good morning…” He answers, his eyes shifting away looking anywhere else in the room. He takes a few seconds to speak again, clearing his throat before. “I’ll get up right now. Promise. Just… Gimme a minute,” he adds a little embarrassed.

“Oh. It’s fine, you don’t have to…” Ryan rushes to say, stopping himself and faking a cough because of course Brendon have to get up, why would he stay in bed? It wouldn’t make any sense, as much as Ryan would want to. “I had…” Ryan starts again, lowering his gaze and clearing his throat, not sure about what he’s allowed to say but letting the words come out anyway. “I had missed this. Waking up. With you,” he whispers, lowering his voice just in case saying it too loud makes Brendon overreact. It’s almost like he’s telling a secret.

It seems, though, that what his words do is freeze Brendon in place, making his stop moving, blinking, even breathing. Brendon keeps looking at some point away, taking what it feels like an eternity before he moves his lips to lick them, closing his eyes and sliding his hands over the comforter in a short, repetitive movement. He frowns then, opening his lips and speaking again.

“Don’t…” He says, shaking his head, pressing his lips together and biting the inside. “Don’t say those things. Don’t do this to me,” he says lowering his voice, almost a whisper. Ryan makes a face and closes his eyes for a moment, sighing. And he knows Brendon’s right, he knows, he just wanted to… Actually, he doesn’t know what he wanted to do with those words, it’s not like they change nothing.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, swallowing and bending his knees under the covers to bring them to his chest, his eyes fixed on some point on his lap. “You’re right, I shouldn’t… It’s not fair. I-I’m sorry, Bren.”

Brendon moves his head to let him know he accept it, playing it down, pulling at his upper lip once and again with his mouth closed and dragging it out when it get stuck between his teeth. He doesn’t look back at Ryan, he just looks away until, after a moment, he moves on the bed, getting up, pushing the covers away and taking his jeans to put them on before he stands up.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna fix breakfast, okay?” Brendon says then, looking at Ryan for the first time in a while. Ryan doesn’t look back at him or says anything; he just nods with his eyes fixed on the creases of the comforter over his lap.

Brendon waits a little before he moves again, walking barefoot to the door to get out the room. Ryan raises his gaze to see him go, sighing heavy and letting himself fall back on the bed, bringing his hands to his face. He’s tired, not physically but because of how hard it is to have Brendon there and not being able to touch him. He realizes that for every steps he takes towards being Brendon’s friend, he steps back a few more, getting away from his goal, like every time he lowers his guard and speaks his mind, he says something stupid that spoils everything.

He’s tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt not being able to wake up next to him every morning, kissing him awake instead of fighting against his own body to get away from him. He’s tired of pretending that, sometimes, he doesn’t fool himself and allows him to forget Brendon’s here just to help him recover, and not because they share something else than just a friendship project.

Ryan’s not made for this. He’s getting aware of it as the days, the hours pass. He’s not made for lying, for pretending nothing’s going on when he’s dying for something to happen. He’s not made for apologizing after saying what he really feels. He never felt something like this for anyone, and the first time he does he’s forced to keep it to himself and to not act in consequence, to ignore it and try control something he doesn’t even know how to manage in the first place. That’s what’s not fair.

He moves to get out of bed with a heavy sigh, walking to the bathroom without even closing the door behind him and leaning over the sink to open the faucet and splash water on his face, trying to clear his mind. He wets his hair too and let the cold water wake him up and freeze his thoughts, while the rain still sounds outside the house.

It doesn’t really work, he still thinks about the matter, because Brendon’s been there with him since day one, not just helping him recover but fixing breakfast and making dinner, walking the dogs, keeping him company, watching movies with him and making stupid comments about any stupid TV show they can find. He’s there in every possible way Ryan never thought about having someone, making him feel better not only because he’s recovering but because every time he comes home it looks brighter, fuller, alive. Ryan never thought his house was dark but bow, every time Brendon goes, he just can’t wait to see him come back again.

The sound of Brendon’s steps back to the room surprises him, even more when he can hear the clicking of spoons and glasses, and the smell of breakfast filling in the room. They don’t use to have breakfast in bed anymore, not since Ryan started his active exercises and he was walking as usual around the house. When he gets out, Brendon’s there sat on the bed, cross-legged and resting his back on the headboard, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. On Ryan’s side of the bed there’s a tray with his breakfast, his tea and honey cup, a yogurt and cereal bowl, and a platter of fruit salad. Brendon looks at him with a defeated looking smile, looking then at the tray.

“I think we can add back the protein shake in a couple of days,” he says, speaking with a weird voice, clearing his throat then. “I still can’t take you to the ice, but I thought we could go rollerblading this weekend. I’d control the intensity and stuff, but… I though you could like the idea.”

“Really?” Ryan asks, his eyes lightening up and his whole face changing, stopping his way to look at Brendon, who’s nodding and smiling a little bit more sincere now.

“Is that fine with you?” He asks, bringing the cup to his lips and drinking, but not stopping looking at Ryan. Ryan laughs unbelieving, going to the bed and getting on it while he shakes his head.

“Fine with me? Bren…” He starts with a huge smile, stopping himself before he starts talking about how much he wants to put on some skates, letting out a deep breath and looking at Brendon soft. “I think. I think I haven’t thank you for all this yet.”

“You don’t have to thank me, don’t be absurd,” Brendon replies, moving his head, drinking again. “You’re tea is gonna get cold,” he adds, looking at the still steaming cup on the tray. Ryan doesn’t stop looking at Brendon, and he keeps a tiny smile on his face. After a few seconds in silence, he moves to the tray, picking up a piece of strawberry to bring it to his mouth.

“I have to do something in return,” he says while he chews, as if he hadn’t heard Brendon. “And I already know I can’t teach you anything because you always get ahead of me in between classes, so… I’ll think about something else.”

“Ryan, really.” Brendon looks and sighs a little, looking at the tray and then around him, leaving his cup on the nightstand. “I’m just… I’m just doing my job, honestly. It’s nothing. You don’t need to do anything in return.”

Ryan swallows and drinks a sip of tea, leaving the cup on the tray and looking at Brendon then.

“You’d be just doing you job if you were just guiding my rehab. If Spencer were taking me to the stadium every day and we worked in your office, with the stadium machines and pools,” he says, keeping his eyes on Brendon without even blinking. “Your job is not fixing breakfast or walking the dogs or staying late with me watching movies. Your job is not taking me rollerblading and yet you’re gonna do it… So I think I do have a lot to thank you for.”

“My job is making you recover as fast as I can. The rest is called being friends,” Brendon corrects him, twisting his mouth before taking the fork on the tray and picking up some pieces of fruit to eat them. “Fixing breakfast or walking the dogs is not my job because it’s not a job for me. So don’t be stupid. You don’t need to thank me.”

Ryan wants to keep arguing him, he wants to say so many things he doesn’t even know where to start, but he just takes another piece of fruit with his fingers and eats it, chewing slowly, looking at Brendon and the tray. He’s putting all of his strength in being friends with Brendon, but every word that comes out of his mouth makes Ryan’s stomach twist and his chest swell, to the point that he thinks if he feels a little more than he’s already feeling, he might end up exploding.

“Stealing my breakfast is part of being friends?” He jokes, or he tries, clearing his throat when his voice comes out weird, smiling small. Brendon lets out a little laugh and nods before he lets the fork back on the tray and takes his cup of coffee, drinking and grimacing then.

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, sticking out his tongue and coughing a little, making an exaggerated face while he shakes his head. “Instant karma. Shit. Coffee tastes awful now.”

Ryan laughs loud with his mouth still full, bringing a hand to cover it and coughing when he swallows and manage not to choke. It’s Brendon who laughs then, pointing at Ryan with a superior face, repeating ‘instant karma’.

“Shut up,” Ryan says still laughing, pushing the bowl on the tray with his hand towards Brendon. “You can eat more, if you want,” he offers with a mocking tone, taking himself another piece of fruit.

“Actually I don’t need your permission. I fixed it, you know? In fact, I could take it away from you and leave you without breakfast any time,” Brendon corrects, moving closer to grab the spoon and take some of the cereals, smirking wide while he brings it to his mouth, chewing with the smile on.

“Oh, so that’s it, uh?” Ryan asks with a raised eyebrow, dragging the tray over the bed away from Brendon, smiling playful. “You fix me a good breakfast but it’s just so you can eat it. Having friends for this…” He sighs dramatically.

“You got me there. Actually I’m just here for your food,” Brendon confesses, keeping the spoon in his mouth and laughing when he reaches with his hand to take something else. Ryan uses his quick reflexes to move and take the tray away, laughing out loud and turning around to stop Brendon with his shoulder and back as a shield, looking at Brendon sideways.

“That’s what I thought… You just want me for my dogs and my food,” he says between laughs, grabbing some cereal with his fingers and bringing them to his mouth, looking at Brendon on purpose and moaning delighted while he sucks his fingers clean.

“It was for your piano at first. I wanted to steal it from you, but it doesn’t fit in my new apartment either,” Brendon says, taking the spoon out of his mouth and trying to dip it in the bowl, the salad, even the teacup, anywhere he can while he doesn’t stop laughing. “But yeah, your food and your dogs, pretty much. Your bed is comfy too, even if I can’t enjoy it as often as I’d…” Brendon doesn’t finish his sentence, stopping his movements and taking the spoon away and clearing his throat a little, moving away from Ryan.

Ryan’s laugh and answer die in his throat, and he bites his lips, looking down. When he starts to move again to sit back straight and place the tray where it was, he ends up hitting his teacup with his hand, spilling the liquid all over the tray and the comforter.

“Shit,” he says, picking up the cup quickly and using some napkins to wipe away the tea, making a face.

“Wait. Let me…” Brendon takes away the tray, leaving the bowl and the salad on his nightstand, leaving the tray on the floor near the bed and getting out of it. He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel, using it to clean up where Ryan’s trying to do the same. Ryan can’t help but letting out a nervous, short laugh after a few seconds, chewing at his lip whiles they try cleaning the comforter as much as they can.

“I’m going to take it off anyway, you don’t need to…” Ryan says, making a gesture with his hand, raising his eyes to look at Brendon and trying to hold his laugh. He doesn’t know what’s so funny about staining his comforter with tea, but it seems like he can’t control it. “I have another one.”

“Yeah? You have another one? Oh, well, then awesome,” Brendon says sarcastically, laughing a little and stopping his cleaning, sitting cross-legged where he is in the middle of the bed, looking at Ryan with a smile. “You rich men and your wasteful spending. Having more than one comforter…” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m a shopaholic, what can I say?” Ryan says, letting out the laugh he was holding, his eyes wandering to Brendon’s mouth. He forces himself to look back at Brendon’s eyes, and he feels his cheeks getting warmer, clearing his throat as if that would make the blush go away. “In fact, I have two comforters for _every bed_ on the house. I’m totally spendthrift. It’s like I throw away my money, almost.”

“Two??” Brendon opens his eyes and brings a hand to his face dramatically, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. No. I can’t believe it. You can’t have so much money, Ryan.”

Ryan burst out laughing again just because of the stupid conversation they’re having, bringing his hands to his face and shaking his head while he laughs. He raises his gaze then to look at Brendon with soft eyes and his lip between his teeth. He looks at him in silence for a few seconds, swallowing the suddenly dryness in his throat, observing every little detail in Brendon’s face as he did last night while he was sleeping.

Brendon holds his look with his smile on for a while, until it starts to face and his cheeks blush, turning his face away and licking his lips, looking at the nightstand and moving on the bed. He gets away from Ryan, returning to his original position, grabbing his cup of coffee to take a sip, then leaving it to grab the bowl and the salad, turning back facing Ryan.

“Can we share?” He asks, handing Ryan the cereal bowl. Ryan nods and moves on the bed, sitting cross-legged facing Brendon, getting a little closer just because of the posture.

He grabs the bowl and thanks Brendon, looking for the spoon over the bed and taking it, starting to eat his cereals, his eyes wandering to look at Brendon. Brendon looks like he’s going to say something when Ryan takes the spoon, but he shuts his mouth when Ryan starts to eat, reaching for the fork still on the tray and bringing it to Ryan’s bowl with a little laugh, stealing some cereals from him, eating them and starting to pick up some fruit pieces.

“Spare me some strawberry pieces, please,” asks Ryan when he swallows, pointing at the fruit with his spoon, taking cereals and yogurt in it again to keep eating. Brendon looks at his salad and then at Ryan’s bowl, starting to pick with his fork every strawberry piece he sees, throwing them in Ryan’s bowl until all of the strawberry pieces are there.

“Done,” he says, using the fork to bring the last piece of strawberry with some yogurt and cereals to his mouth, then coming back to his salad. Ryan laughs short and looks at him.

“I said some pieces,” he says, scooping the mix onto the spoon to eat it, making an approval noise when he does, speaking again when his mouth is not full. “Tasty. You can eat more of it, okay? Gimme that banana,” he asks, and then his eyes grow bigger and his cheeks blush when he hears himself, rushing to clear that up while he watches Brendon choking and suppressing a laugh. “I mean that… um. A piece of. Just the tip. The fruit. That,” he gabbles, and now Brendon is laughing out loud, leaving the salad aside to bend over laughing with a hand holding his stomach, looking at Ryan completely red and with tears in his eyes.

“Wow,” he says still laughing, nodding while he looks at Ryan, who’s more and more red now, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That compensate everything I said last night. We’re even.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Ryan says, feeling his ears burning but unable hold his own laugh, lowering his gaze. Brendon laughs even more, taking the salad and looking around with his fork to pick up a piece of banana.

“Open your mouth, Ryan,” he says, bringing the fork to Ryan’s lips while he laughs more, poking at Ryan’s mouth with the fruit. “It’s okay, baby, don’t be nervous. It’s just the tip, okay?”

Ryan burst out laughing, his embarrassment making him shrink over himself, and he’s sure his face will stay red forever if he keeps blushing like this.

“You’re such an asshole,” he says to Brendon between laughs, opening his lips and putting them around the fork, dragging the piece of fruit into his mouth still laughing. Brendon looks at him for a moment and then at the fork, looking back at Ryan.

“You just ate my banana,” he says, laughing out loud again and putting the fork away, bringing a hand to his face while Ryan curses him. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just…” he says trying to control his laugh. “It’s so inappropriate. Oh my God…” Brendon covers his mouth to try muffling his laugh, but that only makes him laugh louder. Ryan lets his spoon in the bowl and slaps him on his leg, complaining but laughing too anyway.

“Enough, fucker,” he says, groaning because of his own choice of words, bringing his hands to his face, laughing. “Stop laughing at me.”

“Make me,” Brendon answers, laughing more and looking at him to make clear he’s laughing at him. “You’re just so easy to…”

Ryan acts totally and absolutely by instinct. One second he’s uncovering his face to give Brendon a dirty look, and the next one his hands is behind Brendon’s neck, pulling at him to kiss him. He just does it because it’s a valid method to stop someone from laughing, not because he’s been dying to do this since they woke up this morning tangled together, or because his body has decided it can’t resist him anymore.

 

 

 

 


	11. Crashing the Net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. I honestly can't believe we've come this far. There's just one chapter left, guys! And you've been amazing so far, so I want to say thank you (in my name and xipy's name too) for all your love, your comments and your kudos. You guys are the reason we (and particularly me) don't give up.

11.

 

He’s not aware of what he’s really doing until he feels Brendon’s lips over his own, and by that time his body is too busy trembling from head to toe to start panicking and tell him how absolutely stupid what he’s doing is. Brendon’s mouth opens almost automatically under his own, letting a desperate groan come out from his throat and fisting his hands on Ryan’s t-shirt, holding him in place while he pants in his mouth and looks for Ryan’s tongue with his own.

An unstable sigh comes out of Ryan’s mouth when he opens it more and let Brendon get inside it, bringing his other hand to Brendon’s cheek, kissing him and licking him and breathing him until his chest is moving up and down fast with his breath. He just gets away from Brendon’s mouth when he feels dizzy because of the lack of oxygen, and he opens his eyes slowly, carefully, afraid of Brendon vanishing any moment now and turning into smoke in his hands and mouth. He looks at him with his lips barely open and shiny, wet, trying to find in Brendon’s eyes the answer to a non-spoken question. He stays so still there, with a hand behind Brendon’s neck and the other one cradling his cheek, that the only part of his body Ryan can feel is his lips.

Brendon looks at him with liquid, huge eyes, his hands still fisting his shirt, pulling a little unintentionally sometimes, as if he were going to kiss Ryan again any time even if he doesn’t. It’s hard for him to breath, as if the kiss had stolen away all of the oxygen in Brendon’s body, and he licks his lips when his eyes shift to look at Ryan’s, looking back at him with pleading eyes. When Ryan kisses him again, he does it softer, grazing Brendon’s cheek with his thumb, pulling at Brendon’s bottom lip with his own before opening his mouth again and breathing against him, moving almost carefully. Brendon moans soft, shivering and grazing Ryan’s tongue with his own, closing the kiss with his lips before he leans back a bit, enough so he can talk.

“Ryan,” he whispers, and his voice sounds choked, hard. “It’s supposed you and I don’t… We don’t do this. Not anymore.”

Ryan doesn’t open his eyes while he breathes hard, swallowing and joining their foreheads together, his whole body vibrating with the need of kissing him again, to touch him, to have him closer.

“If you ask me to stop, I’ll stop,” he whispers softly, opening his eyes and looking at Brendon’s, waiting. Brendon shakes his head no, even before Ryan’s finished speaking, licking his lips and swallowing, pulling a little at Ryan’s t-shirt.

“No. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to stop,” he says decided, looking at Ryan in the eyes. “But, please…”

“What?” Ryan asks, almost panting, moving his hands to cradle Brendon’s cheeks.

“Don’t make me leave you when it’s over,” he pleads with a small voice, speaking with his lips and with the way his eyes look at Ryan. Ryan kisses him again because he can’t not do it, moving a hand to grope for the bowl between them and put it away, doing the same with Brendon’s then.

When he comes back to Brendon, he gets closer, straightening his legs to get them at each side of Brendon, getting them as close as he can, touching Brendon’s cheek with his nose and lips before he finds Brendon’s again, opening his mouth softly, putting his arm around Brendon’s waist and bringing the other one to tangle his fingers on Brendon’s hair. Brendon let his shirt go to hug him close, kissing Ryan desperate as he presses him against his body, lowering his hands to caress Ryan’s legs before making him tangle them around his waist. He holds himself with a hand on the bed before pushing with his body to make Ryan lie down, pulling at Ryan’s bottom lip before breaking the kiss, looking at him as if he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing.

“I love you,” he says, blinking and letting his lips open, looking at Ryan helpless, biting his mouth and shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s… I can’t. I love you, Ryan,” he repeats leaning in, speaking lower, almost a whisper while he touches his nose with Ryan’s, caressing their lips together looking for a kiss. Ryan shakes his head no when he hears Brendon apologizing, feeling like his insides were becoming a vortex, his heart beating like crazy. He kisses him again, short, arching so they get closer together, until they can’t even breathe.

“Don’t apologize,” Ryan murmurs against Brendon’s mouth, swallowing and breathing hard as he runs his hands compulsively along Brendon’s hair, pushing it back. “Please, Brendon, don’t… don’t apologize. Neither for feeling it, or for saying it, or…” He shuts himself to kiss him again, lowering his arm to put it around Brendon and hug him closer, feeling like he’s overflowing when his skin gets goosebumps from head to toe.

“But it’s just…” Brendon looks at him, bringing his hands to Ryan’s face and touching him lightly with his fingers, breathing hard. His eyes shine but there’s sadness behind them, and he bites his lips frustrated, pressing them hard together. “I wish. I wish you… God,” he finishes, letting his head fall to hide it in Ryan’s neck, pressing himself so hard against Ryan it seems like he wants to go through him, get inside him.

“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, his mind working at its best to understand what’s he talking about, swallowing when he understands. “Bren, look at me,” he asks, bringing his hand back to Brendon’s face, moving him softly to make him raise his head and look at him, staring into his eyes. “I’m in love with you,” he confesses, as if it was obvious and it couldn’t be any other way because, in fact, it is. Brendon frowns and looks at him as if that were impossible, touching Ryan’s cheeks, nose, lips, shaking his head no.

“No,” he says, his head still shaking, looking at Ryan. “No, you can’t… Ryan. Your career.”

“Right now, you,” he says, turning his head to kiss Brendon’s hand, feeling how every word he says makes his lungs more difficult to breathe, maybe because of the lack of oxygen or because of that something that’s swelling inside his chest. “My career can wait until tomorrow.”

Brendon closes his eyes, laughing short before leaning in to look for Ryan’s lips, kissing him while his body melts, moving against him and lowering his hands, getting them under Ryan’s shirt. He grazes Ryan’s skin with the tip of his fingers, running them through his sides, his belly, panting in Ryan’s mouth while he goes up and touches his nipples, feeling them with the palm of his hand then, pressing his open hands against Ryan’s chest.

“I have to touch you. I need…” Brendon speaks deep and urgent, nodding and looking at Ryan. “I can, right? I can touch you.”

Ryan nods fast, his whole skin burning up with every touch, swallowing and licking his lips.

“Yes. Yes, God, of course you can,” he murmurs hoarse and panting, feeling dizzy because of how his blood runs fast inside his veins and pulse in his ears. “Bren. My thigh…” he says, remembering suddenly, not really knowing where his limits are, desperate because right now he’s not sure he could stop.

Brendon nods, murmuring “yes, yes, relax, I got you,” while he runs his lips down Ryan’s jaw, down his neck, pulling at Ryan’s shirt to get it up. He lets Ryan get rid of it and moves, untangling Ryan legs from his waits and holding Ryan’s hips down. He kisses Ryan’s navel, running his lips up the exposed skin while he does the same with his fingers, as if every inch of Ryan’s skin was sacred and he was privileged for being able to enjoy it.

Ryan takes off his shirt and throws it aside after a few tries, looking down at Brendon with eyes open wide, as if he couldn’t believe it’s him touching him. He brings his hand to Brendon’s hair to tangle it there, not guiding, just touching. He can feel his skin standing on end where Brendon runs his lips, arching to look for more, watching him with liquid eyes and his lips open so he can breathe.

Brendon’s hands go up his sides, running up to his shoulders. He fits his leg between Ryan’s, pushing soft with his hips while he kisses his neck, biting sometimes. He just moves away to take off his own t-shirt, groaning relieved when their skins touch, the heat of their bodies mixing in one. Ryan’s arms move almost automatically, surrounding him and hooking his hands to Brendon’s back with his fingers, pressing against him as if he wanted to fuse them together.

He moves his head just because he can’t stay still, making room for Brendon to have access to his neck, moving again to look for his mouth.

“Bren… Bren,” he pants, repeating his name like a prayer, running his hands up and down Brendon’s back, his palms open and his fingers stretched out to touch as much as he can. Brendon nods, looking at Ryan and touching their noses together, biting his chin before going down again, letting Ryan’s hands slide up.

Brendon’s hands go back to Ryan’s hips, holding him in place at the same time that he presses his lips on the skin above the pajama’s waist, sliding his thumbs under it. He pushes down a bit, just a bit, enough to pass the elastic past Ryan’s hipbones, kissing there then. Ryan can’t decide between asking for more or closing his eyes and just enjoy how his skin and body vibrates more and more as Brendon descends.

He feels on the verge of desperation, just needing him more, closer, faster, more of everything. But, at the same time, the sensations gathering inside him are so unbelievable he doesn’t want Brendon to change what he’s doing not even to go faster. It’s like he’s never done this before, as if this was the first time he feels Brendon’s hands and Brendon’s lips. It’s like sex has reached a whole new level Ryan never had experimented, not even with Brendon.

When Brendon pushes down his pants again, Ryan can feel them pass down the curve of his buttocks, getting them down his legs at the same time Brendon caresses them, moving so he can take them off completely. He comes back to where he was, placing a hand under Ryan’s injured leg to hold it up, pressing his lips to his knee and kissing his way down Ryan’s inner thigh. He doesn’t stop, though, when the heat of his mouth mixes with Ryan’s own heat, and he keeps kissing and leaving a wet trail when he touches Ryan’s erection with his lips, covering it slowly, carefully, as if he wanted to kiss it all over.

Ryan’s body jumps when his muscles tense up, letting himself go when a soft moan abandons his throat. His fingers bend trying to hold on Brendon desperately, sliding and scratching his skin. Brendon tightens his grip where he’s holding Ryan, opening his mouth and sucking, tasting, closing his lips around the head and moaning, licking his lips when he leans back to look at Ryan, holding now the base of his cock to take it back inside his mouth.

If Ryan had to describe the sound that comes out his mouth, he probably wouldn’t be able to find the words. His eyes close as he tilts his head back and pants Brendon’s name. It’s like his whole body was on fire, the atmosphere getting dense and making breathing harder, every nervous end on his body trembling at the pace Brendon sets with his mouth. Ryan arches and twists in bed, licking his lips and moaning hoarse, sliding his hand to Brendon’s shoulder and digging his fingers there.

It’s like all the patience Brendon had until now overflowed, groaning from his throat with Ryan still in his mouth, pressing his lips around him and curling his tongue, using his hand to stroke what he can’t reach with his mouth. He goes faster as well as he breathes, starting to move frantic, wanting to cover more than he can. He kisses and touches, lowering his lips, trying to devour him everywhere he can. His fingers move expertly around Ryan’s cock before he takes it back in his mouth, slurping as if it was his favorite ice-cream in the middle of summer, his saliva dripping down Ryan’s skin, making him wet and slippery.

Ryan doesn’t remember being ever that desperate, so quickly, but he doesn’t want it to stop. It’s like a strange torture where you feel like losing your mind but you can’t wait for it to happen. His body and brain are disconnected, he moves automatically, rising his hips, tangling his fingers on Brendon’s hair, tightening his grip, moaning faster, harder, louder. His head is just aware of how good Brendon’s mouth feels all over him, his hands, every little touch and every little sound, mixing with his heartbeat and the heat in the air and his own breathing.

He has no idea how long he’s going to last, because he’s got the feeling that he’s about to explode anytime soon, everything he’s feeling gathering in his chest and stomach, making him shiver, his muscles clenching. Brendon lets his cock go after having fun with it, letting it fall heavy and wet over his belly, crawling up his body while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are dark when they stare at Ryan, kissing him and biting him hard and needed, as if he wanted to have Ryan in every way possible.

“I’ve missed you,” he says with a broken voice when he moves away, lowering a hand to grab Ryan between his legs. “Your cock too. Fuck, you don’t even know how much I’ve missed your cock,” he adds, stroking him and rolling his hips against Ryan’s thigh, kissing him again. “Have you missed me?”

Ryan laughs panting, lowering his hand on Brendon’s back to grab his ass hard, tightening the grip on his hair too, looking at him with his lips open.

“Missing you doesn’t even begin to explain how I’ve felt,” he says, swallowing and breathing hard, pulling at Brendon’s bottom lip with his teeth. “I’ve missed you everywhere. I’ve missed you here,” he says moving his hand on Brendon’s hair to bring it to his chest, over his heart, kissing Brendon again, “and I’ve missed you here,” he adds, sliding his hand between their bodies to put it around Brendon’s hand over his cock, a playful smile opening on his face as he makes Brendon stroke him. Brendon laughs dark and licks his lips, nodding. He kisses Ryan slow and sweet, pulling at his bottom lip while he speeds up the strokes.

“Then are you gonna do something about it?” He whispers against Ryan’s lips with a smile. Ryan laughs and pokes at Brendon’s nose with his own, looking at him equally playful and adoring him.

“The question is, are _you_ gonna do something about it?” He asks, pouting and pressing their heads together, looking at him smiling. “I’m convalescent… You have to take care of me.”

“Oh, you want me to take care of you? Is that what you want?” Brendon asks, starting to lower his lips down Ryan’s jaw, bringing his hands up to hold Ryan’s wrists. He grabs them and pulls them up over Ryan’s head, holding them there. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he says, kissing softly below his ear, moving to position himself and Ryan, taking Ryan’s hands then to the headboard, making him hold them there. “Don’t move them,” he orders with a firm voice, smiling dangerously and kissing Ryan sweet on his lips before he moves away.

“Bren… I want to touch you,” Ryan complains, but he keeps his hands where Brendon told him, swallowing and looking at him. Brendon smiles, getting away to open one of the drawers, getting the lube and condoms to leave them over the bed and coming back to Ryan, this time straddling him. Ryan gets Brendon’s intentions immediately and bites his lips, staring at him, his body heating up even more just thinking about it.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Brendon says, opening the tube of lube and pouring some on his fingers, taking them to Ryan’s cock and making circles over the head, sliding them down to the base.

He starts slow, stroking just with two fingers, looking at Ryan and biting his lips when he takes his other hand inside his jeans, opening them and touching himself under the fabric. He moans softly and moves rhythmically, arching his back and panting with his lips open, looking at Ryan with dark eyes. Ryan looks back at him as if he were the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, using the hold on the headboard to pull himself up a little until his head is resting on the wood board, getting more comfortable.

“Brendon,” he whispers, his eyes wandering through Brendon’s chest, the curves of his muscles, his v-shape, his hipbones, the hand in his jeans, touching himself. “Bren, I want to…” Ryan swallows the dryness in his throat, twisting his fingers on his grip.

Brendon licks his lips, releasing Ryan’s cock to use his hands and take off his clothes, getting naked before returning to his previous position. He gets back touching himself, only now Ryan can see it, see how his hand closes around his cock and strokes up and down, shiny because how wet he is. Brendon takes the lube again, squeezing it to get a good amount on his palm.

He covers Ryan’s cock this time, letting him slide easily in his fist, using the same rhythm he’s using with him, looking at Ryan when his breath gets more agitated, his whole body moving, thrusting against his own hand.

“Tell me,” Brendon says, laughing a little although his own need doesn’t let him play with Ryan as much as he’d like to. He releases Ryan to bring his hand between his cheeks, pushing two fingers inside his own body and trembling because of it. Ryan lets out a whimper, a desperate moan, biting his lip so hard it still hurts when he stops.

“Please, I need… Bren, come on,” he says, and he’s not asking him to rush, he wouldn’t mind just looking at him a bit more if Brendon just let him _touch_. Ryan’s palms are sweating and his body twists, his skin stretches.

Brendon laughs, but his whole body convulses here and there, and he doesn’t last to take his hands from where they are, holding Ryan from the base and rubbing his cock between his ass-cheeks. He leans in and pants against Ryan’s lips before he pushes just a little with his hips, letting Ryan start getting inside him, just a little bit.

“Touch me,” he whispers, his body arching, letting Ryan get more and more inside him when his hips lower, the lube making it easy and smooth, perfect, the burning heat letting Brendon’s body open up and accept Ryan eagerly.

Ryan moves the moment he hears it, bringing his shaky hands to Brendon’s body, panting when he feels Brendon around him, so hot and tight, but sliding so good is making him breathless. He takes his hands to Brendon’s chest, palms open against him, touching his soft and running his fingers through the skin as if he were touching the most fine, valuable piece of art over the face of earth, bringing them up to Brendon’s neck to pull him down and kiss him.

Brendon’s lips open against his right away, moaning when he gets Ryan to bury himself inside him with a last roll of hips. He kisses and lets himself be kissed, holding himself at each side of Ryan’s head and pressing their bodies together as much as he can, moving, making Ryan fit inside him at the same time he looks for his tongue and lips.

“ _God_ … Ryan, you’re…” Brendon moans, vibrating and shining when he looks at Ryan, rolling his hips and _trembling_ when Ryan gets so deep inside him it seems impossible. Ryan moans and puts his arms around him, feeling Brendon’s skin burning against his, starting to get moist with a thin layer of sweat. Ryan hugs him and gets him closer, moving his hands like snakes up his back, cradling Brendon’s cheeks and kissing him soft and short, breathing against him.

“You… You are…” he murmurs, his eyes wandering through Brendon’s face, shaking his head unbelieving. “So inside me, Bren. So much I can’t…” He kisses him again without closing his eyes, not wanting to stop looking at him even if he’s so close he can’t really see him, whispering sweet nothings straight to Brendon’s lips because he just gets away from them enough to breathe.

Brendon doesn’t stop kissing him, he doesn’t while he starts touching Ryan more needy, when his hips rock together and his back arches, when his moans escape his mouth and go straight to Ryan’s mouth. Brendon keeps kissing, groping for Ryan’s hand to hold it tight, to help him keep the rhythm, to do it together.

Ryan moves once more, hugging Brendon whole, following his pace the way Brendon’s asking him without words, keeping their heads together and his lips so close Ryan can’t distinguish who’s breath is who’s. His body shakes all over, and Ryan thinks sex never felt so much inside his chest and so little in the center of his body.

He feels Brendon hard against his belly, wet, rubbing between their bodies every time they move, but it’s impossible for that to be enough, and Brendon ends up moving away so he can push a hand between them and hold himself, moaning hoarse when he does, his body convulsing and tightening around Ryan.

“Wait. Let me do it,” Ryan pants, moving one of his hands to take it where Brendon’s is, pushing his one away and fisting Brendon’s cock with a moan. He feels him pulse, burning against his palm, so wet it’s making Ryan’s mouth water. Brendon arches when he feels it, holding himself with a hand on Ryan’s chest and standing up to straddle Ryan, his body thrusting against Ryan’s fist, making Ryan’s cock get deeper inside him.

“ _Oh, God_ ,” he moans desperate, licking his lips and swallowing, looking at Ryan like the sensations were too much to handle. “I’m not gonna last. God, Ryan, fuck.” His body trembles, and Ryan can see his skin getting goosebumps. “I love having you inside me, I love how you touch me. It feels so good, Ry,” he whispers almost gone, his eyelashes fluttering and his lips hanging open, red and swollen because of the kisses.

Ryan holds himself in Brendon’s waist not to lose the rhythm when he moves up, straightening up to sit, barely inches away from Brendon, so close he can feel the head of Brendon’s cock and his own stroking hand brushing against his stomach. He takes his lips to Brendon’s neck to kiss him, breathe him, to let a wet trail over his skin. He buries his nose behind Brendon’s ear, closing his eyes and letting Brendon’s scent fill him up, moving faster, using every movement to get Brendon closer to the edge.

He feels Brendon shivering over him, his legs, his thighs, his whole body moving non-stop because he can’t stay still for a second. He doesn’t stop touching Ryan, now that the has more access to the rest of his body, grabbing him, scratching him, pushing his fingers in Ryan’s hair, tugging him to kiss him, bite him, lick him, whispering promises and praising him, and saying words so dirty they would make Ryan blush if it wasn’t because he can’t wait to make them real. Brendon changes the angle, holding himself on the bed and moaning deep, looking at Ryan with a haunting gaze. He frowns then, focusing his eyes like if he just got woke up from a dream, bringing his hand to Ryan’s shoulder to hold himself there, bringing something in it.

“Ry,” he calls, placing in front of him what he’s carrying in his fingers, the condom package he got before, intact, unopened. “Ryan…” He calls again, and his eyes demand an answer but his body acts like it hasn’t decided to do something about it, because it keeps moving, it keeps shivering. Ryan last a couple of seconds before he gets Brendon’s calling him because of something, paying attention at what Brendon’s showing him, his eyes getting bigger when he sees what it is.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, and his mind works as fast as he can although he’s not focused at all right now, his body unaffected because of what he’s seen. It keeps going like nothing happened, moving with and against Brendon. “What…?” He asks, not finishing the question and looking at Brendon to find an answer even if their bodies don’t seem ready to accept a retreat right now. “I’m… I swear…” He chokes and swallows, trying to focus. Brendon shakes his head no, letting the condom fall back on the mattress and holding Ryan harder.

“Don’t stop,” he asks, his voice hoarse and dark, his whole body tensing up, pressing Ryan inside him like he doesn’t want him to go. “Don’t stop, Ry,” he repeats and his voice breaks with a choked moan, letting his head fall back while he repeats “don’t stop, don’t stop,” once and again, thrusting with his hips, arching like a snake, going faster, losing his mind.

Ryan curses and, feeling Brendon’s words like an energy shoot, moves his hand faster, holding him harder, moving more intense and feeling how Brendon wets his fist when he strokes him, the overwhelming heat gathering on his lower belly.

“Brendon, baby,” Ryan pants, his breath stuck in his throat, his body shaking, his temperature raising. “I’m gonna…”

“Yes. Yes, come on,” Brendon nods, pressing their foreheads together, opening his lips and panting before speaking again, lowering his voice and licking his lips, looking at Ryan in the eyes. “I want to feel it inside me.”

Ryan nods with a whimper, staring into Brendon’s eyes and tightening his grip, doing everything he knows to make Brendon come with him. He opens his lips with a low groan, the blush covering his neck and cheeks, his whole body tensing up and shaking out of control until his climax gather in his lower belly, making him explode and lose the rhythm, every nervous cell vibrating while he empties himself inside of Brendon, his body shaking. He fights to keep his eyes open while he comes, digging his fingers in Brendon’s skin and managing to keep stroking him.

It’s a matter of seconds, actually, Ryan coming, spilling inside Brendon’s body, and Brendon tensing up from head to toe, letting out a ripped moan and nailing his fingers in Ryan’s skin. Ryan feels his climax wetting his chest, dripping down his fist, dense and hot, and all of Brendon’s muscles clench, squeezing Ryan inside him, milking him, as if he wanted to get every last drop of his orgasm. Brendon looks at him with huge eyes and his lips open in ecstasy, bringing a hand to Ryan’s face to pull him in and kiss him furiously, biting his mouth and pulling to open his lips, pushing his tongue inside, wanting to own him in every way possible.

Ryan moans against his lips, kissing back as much intense, making sure he’s gotten everything from Brendon’s climax before letting his cock go and grabbing him by his waist, pressing him against his body, finding it hard to breath but not being able to let go of Brendon’s lips even when he feels his own used and raw.

“I love you,” he pants almost breathless, looking at Brendon’s eyes with his own half closed, moving his head and making his nose drag along Brendon’s cheek. Brendon smiles, nodding and hugging him tired.

“Me too. I do,” he says, trying to breath normally again.” I love you too, Ry. You don’t even know.”

Ryan stays where he is for a while, not letting go of Brendon, keeping him in his arms while his breath goes back to normal. He moves his head just to let a trail of kisses along Brendon’s skin, on his neck, his shoulder, wherever he puts his lips on, tasting the salt on his skin and caressing it with his lips and the tip of his nose, sighing and hearing his own heartbeats reverberating.

Brendon lets himself fall forward, pushing with his body and making Ryan fall back too against the mattress, making a whining noise when he moves to make Ryan slip out of his body. He slides to the side and falls on the bed, snuggling with Ryan and leaving his arm over Ryan’s belly, sighing a little.

“I’d never… Nobody ever…” he says, licking his lips and looking at Ryan, smiling a little. “Right now I’m feeling it dripping out of me and it’s weird as fuck, you know?”

Ryan laughs and turns his head to the side to look at Brendon, pushing his hair out of his face with slow movements, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I shouldn’t like the idea so much, then, right?” He jokes with his voice hoarse and broken, smiling and sliding the tip of his fingers up and down Brendon’s arm. Brendon laughs, shivering a little with Ryan’s touch, his skin getting goosebumps under Ryan’s fingers.

“Actually… I thought that, maybe, well…” Brendon makes a gesture with his head, starting to trace patterns on Ryan’s chest. “I mean, since we’ve done it already and… We could keep doing it. I know you’re healthy, I have access to your medical reports,” he jokes, making a face. “And, if you trust me enough, I…”

“I trust you,” Ryan nods, the smile still on his face but making sure he sounds serious.

“Does that mean we’re going to…? You know,” Brendon asks, looking at Ryan with huge eyes, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Because, well, it’s a pretty big step. And maybe you should think about it with a cool head.”

Ryan sighs, lowering his gaze for a moment and looking at his fingers on Brendon’s skin, thinking about how he feels right now compared with how he felt these days back every time Brendon was there but not like this, every time he left at night just like that. And maybe this is not the best idea, given his position, but Ryan knows being friends it’s not something he can do, and not having him in his life it’s not an option. Maybe they can do this simple if they try hard enough. Ryan got overwhelmed before because everything was new and uncontrolled. But maybe now, now that he knows for sure how he feels and what he wants, he can keep this under control.

“It’s not like I can choose not to do it,” he says, looking at Brendon again and moving his head to press it against him, lowering his voice. “It’s not an option. This is what I need and what I want. Just… we must be careful. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Brendon nods, moving his head to kiss Ryan’s skin, snuggling more and sighing deep. “These days here, these weeks without you… they were shit,” he says, laughing a little. “I thought about quitting. When you finished your rehab. Didn’t care if I could stay until the end of the season or not. Cassie can come back now anyway, so I wouldn’t let the team down or anything,” he explains, keeping drawing patterns on Ryan’s chest, looking at his own fingers moving. “But I couldn’t stay here, seeing you and… pretending I’m super mature and I don’t care if we’re just friends.”

“You seemed to bear it way better than me,” Ryan jokes, hugging him closer and kissing his forehead. “The first day I almost end up in a Scotch coma,” he laughs, making a face. “Don’t let Spencer make you try it ever… That thing is made of hell fire.”

Brendon lets out a laugh, looking at Ryan with a smile and lowering his head.

“I almost quit right there,” he confesses, shrugging a little. “But it’s not like I could explain why I was leaving, and everybody would have blamed Cassie, and I couldn’t even tell her what was going on. So I just…” He sighs, making a face and looking at Ryan. “I’ve always been a good liar. It helps you survive. I can teach you, if you want,” he adds, joking. Ryan laughs, looking at him resigned.

“I was that bad, right?” He asks. Brendon laughs, shaking his head.

“Not that bad,” he answers, his voice getting more serious now. “That time when we stopped talking to each other made me believe we wouldn’t have any relationship ever again. Although I don’t know if that counts as lying.”

“That’s avoiding,” Ryan laughs, wrinkling his nose. “That I can do,” he adds, joking, but speaking back seriously again. “The thing is… I’m used to suffer a loss, some way. But, when it comes to you, it was… it just felt wrong. Like it was out of context, like it didn’t make sense, losing you.”

Brendon moves when Ryan stops talking, holding himself in one arm to stand up a little, staring at Ryan and breathing through his nose. He drums his fingers on Ryan’s chest.

“There’s something… about you, about us, I don’t know,” he shakes his head. “And it’s not because I’m a hopeless romantic, or someone who doesn’t believe in relationship, or even one of those Casanovas who just want one night stand,” he says, clearing his throat and making a face at Ryan, laughing. “I’m normal. But this has happened so fast, so… In a matter of months you were so inside me I thought I was going crazy, and I would have wanted anything you could give me. Or so I thought, because when we went back to just hook-ups it physically hurt me, knowing I couldn’t, like, call you and ask you to go watch a movie, or to stay the night at home with me, or to come with me to boxing class. And that never happened to me, so intense, you know?” He explains, looking at Ryan and chewing at his lip, laughing. “Have you decided that, on second thoughts, you actually want to run away right now? I would understand, after what I just told you.”

“I didn’t know this,” Ryan says, pointing at both of them, “something so simple as what we’re doing right now, could feel so good. I just knew about the feeling of wanting to leave the moment sex was over. But you… since the first fucking minute I found you singing Frozen in your office and you told me I smelled bad, you just… turned my world upside down. And you’ve taught me something so, _so_ much better,” he explains, feeling his cheeks blush. “So, no. I don’t want to run away. I’m discovering so many things with you and… I want to keep doing it.”

Brendon smiles, his face getting pink when he lies back next to Ryan.

“I’ve been told that before, about turning things upside down,” he says, looking at Ryan and kissing his cheek, biting it then. “But you’re the first one who likes it,” he adds, burying his nose in Ryan’s hair and whispering. “I want to keep you forever. I want you to stay with me.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Ryan whispers back, moving his head to kiss Brendon’s lips, not moving them so their lips still touch. “If you’re in for, you know, being careful and all that. I know it sounds like shit and you never had to hide before, but I don’t know… Hockey is the only thing I’m good at. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t keep playing. It’s… I _need_ to keep playing.”

“I won’t ruin your career,” Brendon says, looking at him serious. “That’s not what I want. And, for the record, I doubt hockey is the only thing you’re good at, but I know is the thing you love, it’s what makes you happy. That’s the only thing that matters, Ryan. I want you to… well, that, I want you to be happy.” He makes a face, a little embarrassed, “and I don’t care if I have to hide for it.”

“You’re right, I’m good at sex too,” Ryan jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing, sighing then. “You would never ruin my career. Even if you wanted to, like, hold a conference to announce our relationship, it’d be your right. But you’re doing this for me, and that only makes me love you even more, so fuck you, Bren,” he smiles, kissing him softly, sighing against his lips. “You know what? When I talked to Cassie at the party, she told me you were a special person. And not because you’re weird or different, and you are that too. It’s that you’re really _special_. I said she was right, of course, but now I’m realizing you’re even more special than I thought…” He laughs, shaking his head. “You. You’re something else. You’re not from this world.”

Brendon shuts his eyes and shakes his head while a bright smile lightens up his face, starting to laugh then. He laughs soft at first, then out loud. When he opens his eyes to look at Ryan, he bites his lips and a thousand feelings shine inside his look, leaning in and kissing him short and soft because he keeps laughing.

“I should hold that conference just to tell these things, and just for your teammates,” Brendon says, laughing more and looking at Ryan fondly. “You’re so cheesy, Ryan Ross. You’re so, so, so cheesy. And I love it,” he adds, pulling at him suddenly to kiss him while he makes them roll over. He laughs when he gets on top of Ryan, sighing a little. “The only thing I’ll regret it’s not being able to tell anybody how lucky I am to be with you. Or maybe I can tell Spencer, since he already knows,” he jokes, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think he’d like that?”

“I’m sure he’d love it,” Ryan laughs. “Also, he thinks I’m cheesy too, like you. And, by the way, I’m not cheesy; I just make a good use of my language. I didn’t take a whole year of English Literature for nothing.”

“You took a year of English Literature?” Brendon asks surprised, letting out a laugh. “What else I don’t know about you?”

“That’s what I did in college,” Ryan says with a fun smile, shrugging. “I don’t know, what you do want to know that you don’t already know? There’s not too much else, actually. You know the basics.”

“There’s something I’d like to know, though,” Brendon says, looking at him and making a face. “And that’s what am I gonna do tonight, when we finish dinner and I have to go home.”

“Go? Home? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Ryan, hiding his face in Brendon’s neck and starting to kiss him, leaving some bites too. “Maybe you’re speaking a foreign language you didn’t tell me about.”

“Stop that…” Brendon laughs, playing along with Ryan, attacking him with bites when he can, pulling at his lip, at his ear lobe. “Hey, no, really. I have no clothes here; I have to go, at least to bring here some clothes. If you want me to stay the night.”

“If you promise you won’t crash it, you can take my car,” says Ryan, more focused on giving Brendon a hickey on his shoulder than on what he’s saying. Brendon lets out a victory sound, laughing and looking at Ryan.

“What do you want me to bring?” He asks, watching the mark Ryan’s giving him. “I mean, how long do you want me to stay? Just this night, the weekend, or…”

“You could stay the whole weekend…” says Ryan, watching his work with a proud smile, looking then at Brendon. “The next one we play out of the state and you won’t be able to come for a few days.”

“I can stay for as long as you want me to,” Brendon says, moving then and grabbing Ryan’s injured leg, sitting up to look at it. “And speaking of playing, we need to keep doing the exercises. Sex counts, by the way. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?”

“I didn’t hurt myself, don’t worry,” says Ryan, smiling soft. “And, if sex counts… how many times a day would you recommend it? I need to know so I can tell my boy, so when he comes back from getting some clothes at home we could see if we need another session,” he says with a joking tone, wiggling his eyebrows.

Brendon laughs, looking at him and pouting.

“Well, everybody knows exercising is healthy. The more, the better,” he says, looking at Ryan with a little laugh. “Maybe you want to tell your boy that when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll understand, and he’ll try to do everything he can to give you a hand in your recovery.”

Ryan smiles big, hugging Brendon closer to kiss him short on the lips before he licks his own.

“Let’s take a bath before you leave?” He asks. “Or are you leaving later?”

“I can go now,” Brendon says, moving more against him, snuggling. “But I thought about going once we finished dinner, at the time I usually go home. _Although_ , I would need some clothes if you want me to take a shower, or a bath, or to get wet in any way possible,” he adds, laughing a little. “And I need any of those things, given the circumstances.”

“How do you like this?” Ryan says, hugging him with his legs too, trying to get him as close as possible. “We take a relaxing bath, then you borrow some clothes and you go home to take yours, and while you’re gone, I make dinner.”

“ _You’re_ going to make dinner?” Brendon asks, raising his eyebrows, laughing. “Or are you gonna order dinner? Not that I think any of those options is a bad idea…”

“Eh! I can cook, you know?” Ryan answers offended, pinching Brendon lightly. “Not _a lot_ of things, but what I can do I do it really good.”

“Eh, I believe you!” Brendon laughs louder, moving away but getting closer again. “It’s fine, I like it. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. It’ll be almost like a first time.”

“Good. I’m going to cook risotto for you,” says Ryan, nodding. “I need to go downstairs to feed the dogs. Would you prepare the bath? Have you noticed I have a whirlpool bath?” He adds, moving his eyebrows with a smile.

“Ooooohhhhhhh,” Brendon opens wide his eyes and untangles from Ryan, jumping out of the bed. He makes a face then and laughs. “Uh. I think I’m gonna take a quick shower first, ‘kay? And I prepare the bath.”

Ryan laughs and nods, getting out of bed himself and taking his underwear to put it on before he goes downstairs. The dogs are all over the house, but they gather immediately at his feet because they know it’s feeding time. He doesn’t take long to go back to his room and, while he takes off his clothes, he can hear the water falling and Brendon’s voice sounding melodic against the tiles. Ryan takes an extra towel from his closet and goes to the bathroom, smiling just listening to Brendon and closing the door behind him.

 

*

 

It seems like, now that everything between Brendon and Ryan has gotten absolutely better, Ryan’s recovery gets faster too. That or maybe before Ryan was so busy feeling sorry for himself the days passed slower. The thing is, as the days pass, he can feel his thigh lighter, better, ready to move, and Ryan even feels it better than before the injury. The machines Brendon bought are working perfectly and, by the way, using the empty space in Ryan’s basement. Brendon’s hands are doing the rest of the awesome work. Right now, Ryan doesn’t even remember how it was to live without having Brendon at home, and he doesn’t miss it either.

It’s not like Brendon’s _living_ with him, in the fullest sense of the word, anyway. Except for those times Brendon has stayed the night, he keeps going home every day and coming back the morning after. Now that Ryan’s getting better and he can do his exercises without help, Brendon’s living more outside Ryan’s needs. It’s especially those moments Spencer takes advantage of to go visit Ryan, have a little chat, be friends. It’s not easy, because Spencer and Brendon schedule of work is practically the same, so they have to use their free time to avoid each other when it comes to stay with Ryan. The moments Spencer and Brendon are at home at the same time are the most uncomfortable moments Ryan has felt in his life.

Things are not better between them, and it doesn’t seem like they will be in a future. Spencer just acts like Brendon doesn’t exist, and Ryan can see Brendon physically pushed apart and out of place in those moments, just speaking in monosyllables, losing all of his light, lowering his head and just doing what he needs to do as fast as he can to leave the house as quiet as possible. Ryan’s trying to let Spencer give in just by himself, but knowing Spencer, it’s going to be hard. And Ryan doesn’t like having to persuade his friend into something he should be able to see by himself, but he won’t let this go for longer when the situation is more and more unbearable for Brendon and for him.

It’s late when Spencer comes home and, at least, now he calls before coming visit if he wants to do something else than just visit. They’re having dinner. The three of them. Theoretically. They’ve done this before, more or less, having a meal together, but nothing so social like a dinner. A couple of breakfasts, some afternoon snack, never a dinner, and nothing since Ryan and Brendon started to live their relationship as an official couple. Brendon’s nervous, it shows in how he moves around and talks too much like he was compensating for how silent and quiet he’ll need to be at dinner. Everything changes the moment Spencer puts a foot in the house, his body language, his aura, his everything. Brendon stays in the background when he usually is the center of attention, and lets Ryan interacts with Spencer as if they were alone.

Ryan keeps an eye on him anyway, and tries to include him in the conversation from the start, although he’s not sure if that’s better or worse, because the way Spencer manage to swing back his exclusive attention to Ryan is as smooth and insulting as the way he dodges rivals on the ice. Ryan would find it funny if it wasn’t Brendon the one who’s suffering it. Dinner arrives and Brendon’s discomfort grows as they share appetizers and stuff, looking clearly uneasy and looking almost exclusively at his plate until everything’s shared out unfairly because Spencer doesn’t bother to acknowledge Brendon’s presence even at the table. Brendon ends up getting his phone out, texting someone and only then smiling a little sometimes, shy and intimate.

Ryan’s eyes move from Spencer to Brendon once and again like he was watching a tennis match. He evens brings Brendon to the conversation desperately saying things like: “well, Brendon told me…” or “Brendon knows about that, right?” It doesn’t work at all, and he ends up tired more than anything else. He gives an apologizing look to Brendon and a murderous one to Spencer, who reads it perfectly although he pretends he doesn’t.

There’s still food on Brendon’s plate and he’s just taken two sips at his beer when he gets up, excusing himself and picking up his dishes, saying something about Jacky and Amanda waiting for him to go see a movie, so he can’t stay longer or he’ll be late. He disappears past the kitchen door and comes back later, picking up his things in his bag. Spencer keeps talking as if nothing happened. Ryan’s more focused on Brendon’s movements, but he can’t blame him for wanting to leave.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he says, interrupting Spencer when he sees Brendon’s finished, and he leaves his cutlery over his plate to get up. “I’ll be back,” he adds, looking at his friend.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to. You’re still eating…” Brendon says in a low voice, looking at Ryan and making a gesture to play it down while he walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, really. It’s not a problem,” Ryan insists, getting closer and following him to the door. Brendon doesn’t say anything else, just walks and doesn’t stop Ryan from coming with him. He puts his hand on the handle when he gets there, looking away at Spencer still in the dining room.

“Same time tomorrow, right?” Says Brendon, leaning a little on the doorframe and smiling small.

“You know you can come here whenever you want to,” Ryan answers, smiling back at him but sighing then, lowering his eyes making a face. “I’m sorry about Spence…” He adds, lowering his voice and looking at Brendon again. Brendon laughs a little, making a resigned face.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not worse than when he’s at the office,” he says, shrugging and opening the door. “I’m used to it. See you,” he says, and he leans in for the goodbye kiss but he stops himself in the last moment, moving away and clearing his throat. “Goodbye.”

“Hey,” Ryan calls him, reaching to hold him and stopping him from leaving, getting closer and cradling Brendon’s face with his hand to kiss him goodbye, ignoring if Spencer is looking or not, and not giving a shit if he is. “See you tomorrow,” he whispers when he lets go, kissing him short again before moving away.

Brendon lets out a breathy laugh, as if he were letting out the tension he was feeling all this time, nodding and grabbing Ryan’s shirt to kiss him again, this time harder, before he walks out the door.

Ryan’s still smiling while he looks at him go and closes the front door, but it fades away while he walks back to the dining room. He looks at Spencer with a serious face and hard and tired eyes, letting himself fall on his seat.

“So, as I was saying,” Spencer speaks like they never stopped talking, “Matt said I couldn’t make the car go 150 mph on that straightaway, I didn’t have enough time and I’ll crash. So we decided to bet on it, and that only shows how little he knows me, because no one on their right mind bets against me if they know I only bet when I know I’ll win. But, well, he’s my brother in law, right? It’s always a good time to let him make a fool of himself,” he explains, laughing and eating from his plate. Ryan doesn’t find it funny, actually. “I told him, I bet you 200 bucks, because it’s not like I wanted to ruin him, but he was so full of himself and said he wanted to take advantage of me, so we went for the thousand,” he says, making a face. “It’s a shame because, of course, I won’t make him pay me a thousand dollars, you know? But I could have used those 200 bucks. That much I’d have made him pay.”

“Are you finished?” Ryan asks, raising an eyebrow with a low tone, more tired than angry. “Can you explain now what has Brendon done for you to ignore his existence?”

“Has he done anything for me not to ignore it?” Spencer asks back, eating his food like he didn’t really care about the subject. Ryan frowns, staring at him.

“ _Existing_ , Spencer. He’s a person like you and me. And you’re not just being unfair to him, you’re also being an asshole,” he says ironically. “Your mom would be so proud of seeing how polite his son can be…”

“My mom…” Spencer snorts a laugh, shaking his head like what Ryan just said was absurd, leaning in. “Is this because you’re fucking him again? Is that it? Because you didn’t seem to have a problem with me ignoring him until now. Has he broken up with the other one, or are you two sharing him?”

Ryan feels his cheeks blush, he doesn’t know if it’s because of his rage or his shame, moving a little away because Spencer words feel like a slap in the face.

“I thought maybe, with time, you’d move on from whatever you’ve got against him, and maybe you’ll treat him politely. I understand you don’t like him, I can accept that, but acting like he doesn’t exist is not necessary,” he says, keeping a low voice and a serious, almost cold, tone. “And I’m not _fucking_ him. I’m with him, if you give a fuck about it. And the Jacky thing, I misunderstood that,” he finishes, feeling particularly hurt by his best friend. In the end, he’s the only one whom which Ryan can talk about his relationship with Brendon. But it seems like right now the two main people in his life won’t find a point of harmony.

“Politely? What am I doing that’s not polite? Not talking to him is not polite?” Spencer asks, not getting in the conversation, his face changing showing interest. “Because I think not being polite would be reminding him how he fucked up my best friend’s life every time I see his face. Since that dude came to your life you’re just going from bad to worse. The only thing I know about him is how insufferable he is, and how, for some fucking reason, that’s not enough for you to get him out of your head. The only thing you’ve done is suffering because of him. I’ve never heard you talk about how good he makes you feel, or how much you laugh together, or anything, since you accepted you had a crush him. And you want me to look at him and laugh at his jokes? Someone who fucked you up so bad he made you miss the playoffs and he’s here just because of his guilty conscience? You want me to be _polite_? I assure you, Ryan, I’m being really polite compared with how I could be,” he says, huffing like a bull with a sharping tone. “And no, I don’t give a fuck about how you want to call it, if ‘I’m with him’ sounds better than ‘I’m fucking him’. In the end, it is what it is.”

Ryan stays in silence for a few seconds, thinking about his friend’s words. It’s not like he doesn’t understand him, it’s just that he’d like it if Spencer could forget about those things to make it easier for Ryan. He sighs and lowers his gaze, the thought of telling him that then he’s just fucking Linda too crossing his mind but staying there. In the end, Ryan has limits when it comes to Spencer, even if Spencer doesn’t seem to have them with Ryan.

“It’s not just sex, Spence,” he says, letting himself fall back on his chair and rubbing his face with his hand. “And I understand you can be mad at him because of the injury or… because of what happened. But Brendon. Brendon makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and that’s important to me. He’s important to me. And you too. I would like to have you both in the same room without an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with scissors,” he explains, looking at Spencer a bit pleading, leaning forward. “Listen, I know… I know you don’t think the best about him right now, but you could give him a chance to change that. Brendon wants to be with me, he feels the same as I feel, okay? This is serious, Spencer. And I’d like to have your support, if that’s not too much to ask. And having your support means you giving him that chance. Please.”

Spencer looks at him, changing his expression with Ryan’s last sentences, his eyes getting sharper and his brow furrowing. He leans back in his seat, not taking his eyes away from Ryan any moment, just blinking a couple of times. When he opens his mouth it’s not immediately, and he closes just to open it again, speaking and tilting his head.

“This is ‘serious’?” He asks, speaking carefully. “What do you mean with ‘serious’?”

“I mean we’re together. Together not in the sense of hooking up here and there and having fun, but. _Together_ ,” Ryan clears up, speaking slowly and looking at his friend, waiting for a reaction but not really waiting, speaking again. “The first time I met him,” he says, letting out a laugh and shaking his head, remembering, “he told me I smelled bad. And the second time he told me ‘I wasn’t the most friendly person ever’, although I think he actually meant I was stupid. It’s… hard to understand, but I promise he’s so much more than you see. Brendon’s so much more.”

“So you’re… a couple,” he says, and he’s not asking although his voice sounds questioning. Spencer face seems to decompose right there, like he just found out about an undeniable truth he ignored until now. He has, actually. “That means this… This is a long-term thing? Do you want to…? Do you mean this to… to go that far?”

Ryan shrugs, looking at Spencer with his lip between his teeth and letting out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” he confesses sincerely. “I just know I like to be with him, I miss him when he’s gone, it feels good to be together. If you ask me right now, I can tell you I could picture this going as far as possible, and I like picturing that. I don’t know if that’s what will happen, but… This is what I want. And it’s what Brendon wants too,” he finishes, swallowing and waiting for what Spencer has to say to that. Ryan can see it’s not something he expected. Maybe now he can give in.

“I don’t know what to say, Ryan…” Spencer says after a while, looking at him with a blank face. Ryan’s not used to be unable to read Spencer’s face, especially when it comes to an important subject. “As you can understand, I don’t think this is the best idea, or the best person to do it. And it’s not because he’s a guy, okay? It’s… I gotta ask. Are you sure he feels the same for you? Because, secret or not, being with you is a jackpot-screw.”

Ryan opens his mouth immediately but he closes it right after, sighing. He can’t blame Spencer for asking. He doesn’t know Brendon and it’s not such a crazy idea. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though, but Ryan knows Spencer’s just doing what he’s always done: looking out for him. Protecting him.

The sensations mix up in his chest, the hurt because of the insult towards Brendon and understanding Spencer’s concern, and it taste acid in the back of his tongue. For some reason he needs Spencer to understand this. He feels like, if he can do that, he’ll be closer to make things better between them.

“How did you know Linda wasn’t a gold-digger?” He asks, looking at his friend. Ryan knows Brendon, he trusts him but, above all, he feels him. He feels what Brendon says with words in ways he never thought possible. And nothing and no one would make him question that.

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment, and something in his face changes. He’s thinking about the perfect answer, Ryan can see it, and just being able to read him again makes the situation feel more comfortable for Ryan.

“Well… I think it’s fair to say I knew Linda for a year before we started dating, and we went slow, going out, getting to know each other… You know Brendon for how long? Six months?” Spencer makes a face, clicking his tongue. “The problem is that, if it turned out Linda’s feelings were fake, it wouldn’t go farther than me being devastated. You’re going to put your career on risk for someone you don’t even know if he’ll leave you in the lurch at the first opportunity. Because, honestly, what do you know about him? Do you know if he’s loyal? Do you know his morals? He’s not honest, that I can tell, because I’ve heard him lying more than once, and with shockingly ease,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, like he just realized he’s got a lot of reasons to be against this. “I not even sure if you know his favorite food. I don’t know what you know because I don’t know a thing. When I started dating Linda you knew as much as I did because I told you everything, because I couldn’t stop talking about how great she was. And I just know shitty things about Brendon, Ryan!”

Ryan looks at him for a moment, thinking about Spencer’s words. In some way, he can see his friend’s right to a point. Ryan never talked to him about Brendon since this started because he didn’t even know what he felt then, and after knowing he thought talking about Brendon was the last thing Spencer wanted when they hang. Ryan was never one to open easily, he just does it with Spencer but, even with him, sometimes he just can’t. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to explain some things. And, to be honest, Spencer didn’t seem too open to listen to Ryan talking about Brendon.

“He doesn’t have a favorite food,” he says, clearing his throat and breathing deep, looking at Spencer. “I know he lies because that way he doesn’t get attached to people he thinks will end up leaving him, unable to stand him. He hates that it doesn’t work with me because he wasn’t able to lie to me since the beginning,” he laughs soft, lowering his voice and licking his lips. “I know that, once you’re part of his life and you stay, he’ll do anything for you, as if he needed to reward you for being there. He’s loyal, he’s not afraid of anything except one thing, he loves animals, he’s an awful student because before you can teach him anything he already found out how to learn it his way. I also know he’s unpredictable, and he can surprise you with anything at anytime, he’s attentive. He’s persistent, he’s strong, and I’m not talking physically,” he lists, swallowing and thinking about all the things Brendon’s gone through and how he’s still so happy anyone would think his life is perfect. He won’t tell any of it, it’s not his story to tell, but he’d like to let Spencer know what he feels knowing it. “He’s adventurous, impatient, funny, smarter than people think. And he puts my career above of everything he can feel, he’s ready to sacrifice his own principles, the ones that made him never hide who he is even if that could make him get rejected.” He stops for a moment, looking at his friend with determination. “I don’t know if that’s as much as you knew about Linda but, for me, is enough to risk anything.”

Spencer looks at him as he did when he started talking, with that face that says he didn’t expect half of the things Ryan’s told him. He’s out of words, Ryan knows it, Ryan feels it, and that’s something that doesn’t happen every day. Spencer always has something to say.

It’s almost funny, the way he’s _suffering_ trying to know how to reply to that, blinking and looking away, grabbing his fork and frowning, clearing his throat. When he finally speaks, he smiles sideways, wrinkling his nose, making a face.

“And you said you wouldn’t fall for him…” He says, raising his look, watching Ryan and laughing. Ryan laughs too, and it sounds relieved and amused, because he feels like he finally got Spencer on his side, even if it’s just a bit. And it’s not new, knowing what he feels for Brendon, but hearing Spencer saying it right now makes him blush for some reason.

“It’s all his fault,” he says, looking at Spencer with hopeful eyes, biting his lip. “That’s why I asked you to give him a chance. Because he’s not like you think he is, I promise. Just… try to know him? I know you don’t like him, but. I don’t know. At least try to include him in our conversations. It’s not like we’re going to be the three of us together all the time. Just, when we happen to be, well… be good.”

“I could try,” Spencer answers, making a face to hide a little smile. “But I’m doing this for you, okay? I can’t promise anything else. If it goes wrong, you suck it up, because I won’t laugh at his jokes if I still think he’s stupid. You hear me?”

Ryan smiles big and nods, like a kid who just knew he could go to the park if he behaves well.

“Thanks, Spence,” he says, laughing a little then. “And don’t worry, I promise I won’t torture you too much. Except for when he sleeps here or something like that, you won’t have to share too many hours with him. Your loss, though…”

“Ross, he’s in this house the whole fucking day and, when he’s not here, he’s working. With me. In the same place. Sometimes in the same room. I don’t think you can promise me I won’t have to share too many hours with him,” Spencer corrects him in a grouchy mood, but so much lighter than before.

“Those things escape my control,” says Ryan with a big smile, relaxing in his seat now that the conversation has lost that tense tone. “Also, he’s here just because of my injury. And it’s getting so much better, by the way. Brendon says I’ll be able to play even before semifinals.”

“I bet he’ll spend a lot less time here once you’re fine again…” Says Spencer sarcastically, looking at Ryan and changing his expression. “Have your talked to Bob about it? ‘Cause he’s not happy. I don’t know if he’ll let you play even if you can.”

Ryan makes a face and looks at Spencer wrinkling his nose, breathing deep and letting it out, shrugging. He knows Bob’s not finished with him, and he’s waiting for him to get better so he can remind him this is his fault and he’s been an irresponsible. Again.

“Did he say something?” He asks. “You could try to persuade him to let me play again. I’m dying to be on the ice.”

“Me? Persuade Bob?? Who do you think I am, a fucking genie in a bottle?? Ross, come on…” Spencer shakes his head while he laughs. “You know the only one who can do that is Patrick, and he’s not so happy with you either. You should have thought about it before deciding to be such a jerk with him. Still, it’ll be easier talking to him than with Bob. If I were you, I’d try to work with Stump, you know what I mean,” he says, and then he makes a face. “I mean… You know what I mean, right?”

“What?” Ryan laughs because of what Spencer just said but mostly because of Spencer’s face. This will always be funny. “And I wasn’t a jerk, why everybody call me a jerk?” He asks offended, but still laughing.

“You’re a jerk. You’ve always been a jerk, don’t try to be a saint now,” Spencer says, smirking. “Maybe that can work with your physio, but you can’t fool me. Maybe I should tell him a couple of things…” He says, his smile threatening.

“My physio was the first one to call me a jerk to my face,” Ryan says with a smile, feeling weird saying ‘my physio’. It’s funny, because that’s what he is and it’s not the first time Ryan calls him like that, but it sounds different now for some reason. “And what are you gonna tell him, fucker?” He asks, his face changing when he remembers that last part. Spencer laughs out loud, standing up and picking up the dishes, looking at Ryan amused as he goes to the kitchen, letting the question unanswered while he keeps laughing.

Ryan can hear him put the dishes in the sink and open the fridge, the glass of the beer bottles clinking. Spencer makes a gesture towards the living room when he gets back, making Ryan follow him to seat in one of the couches. Ryan still looks at him, genuinely interested in what Spencer’s thinking about.

“No, really. What evil thing are you planning to do? Because I’ve never done a thing that could scare Brendon away,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “right? Maybe I have some memory lapses.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Spencer answers, laughing again, looking at Ryan. “You should know if you’ve done something to scare him away… I’m just saying that, well, since you want me to talk to him, maybe it won’t be such a bad idea telling him some of your conquest stories. I’m sure he’d like them.”

Ryan grabs the nearest cushion to throw it at Spencer, cursing at him and taking his beer to take a sip, giving Spencer a dirty look.

“They’re not that bad,” he mutters, drinking his beer while Spencer keeps laughing.

 

*

 

The first time Ryan set a foot on an ice rink, he does it at practice. He doesn’t practice with the rest of the team, he goes to a special session for him guided by the second coach. Even so, he feels like going back home, like the first time he started playing with his university team, something totally new compared to what he had done playing in high school. The adrenaline runs through his veins and the euphoria doesn’t let him stop smiling even having a limited practice and the coach calling him off every time he gets overexcited and forces his muscles too much. His thigh feels light and easy, and it’s hard to control himself when it’s been so long since he’s done this.

The rehabilitation is coming to its end, and in a few days Ryan will have to pass a new check-up to be sure he’s completely recovered. If everything goes as Ryan thinks, he’ll be ready to play before the Hounds have to face their rivals for the fourth time in quarterfinals. It’s Patrick the one who does all the final check-ups, and Ryan knows he won’t allow him to play if a single test doesn’t come out as perfect. It’s not just his physical health, but his mental health too. Being almost a month without playing when you’re part of an elite team is enough to make you have to almost start from the beginning if you want to play at the same level as the rest of your teammates.

“I’m gonna let you play,” Bob says when Ryan gets out of the rink, still sweating and the electric buzz in his skin shaking him, and moves his hand before Ryan can get too excited, “but you won’t play quarters finals before I see how you manage yourself against a rival. I don’t care what you do during practice, you know it’s not the same,” Bob explains, looking at Ryan frowning. “So I’ll find the way to set a friendly match some way. Privately, if it can be. I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna do it, but I’ll do it. Maybe we can do something benefic and stuff, everybody loves those things.”

“But you’ll let me play semifinals, right?” Ryan asks, not wanting to argue Bob anything because he knows that would be a dead end, trying to hide his excitement just thinking about playing again.

“You better. It’s not me letting you play, it’s you,” says Bob growling a little. “So you better be ready for semifinals. I want you there like you had a fucking new leg, you hear me? I want a fucking superhuman on the rink. I want millions dollar offers for you when they see you play, is it clear?”

“I swear to God,” Ryan answers, nodding with a big smile before he starts walking to the locker room. He stops then, turning around to look at Bob. “And, Bob, I know… I know I shouldn’t have neglected my thigh, and I’m sorry. Really. The last thing I wanted was to let the team down.”

“Yeah, yeah, go to the locker room, Ross,” says Bob, moving his hand and wrinkling his nose. “And I said millions dollar offers, okay? And you won’t accept any of them!”

Ryan laughs as he goes to the locker room, walking backwards first and then walking fast across the corridor. He gets to the locker room door, but he changes his mind and turns around, choosing the door right in front of it and knocking at it before opening it, sticking in his head.

“Eh, you,” he says, getting in the office when he sees Brendon’s alone, opening his smile. “Guess who’s playing a game really soon.”

“Really?” Brendon gets up his seat quickly, opening a huge smile that matches Ryan’s and leaving over the table whatever he had in his hands, almost running towards Ryan to hug him and closing the door before kissing him. He bites his lips a little, smiling satisfied when he leans back, not breaking the hug. “I’m good, huh?”

“The best,” Ryan whispers with a smile, kissing him short and tightening his arms around Brendon’s waist. “Thanks.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Brendon shakes his head, speaking soft and looking at him fondly before lowering his head and laughing. He looks back at Ryan with an amused expression. “Actually, I did it for me. Do you know how famous I will be because of this?” He jokes, kissing Ryan again when he laughs. He twists his lips when the kiss breaks, thinking. “Hmm… how should we celebrate?”

“I can think of a few ways…” Ryan says, moving his eyebrows suggestively before kissing Brendon’s cheek, leaving his hands on Brendon’s hips. “I’m gonna take a shower and change my clothes. Come home tonight?”

“My job is done with you, Mr. Ross. I have nothing else to do at your home…” Brendon answers with an innocent face. “Unless you need attention somewhere else. Any anomaly you didn’t tell me about?”

“Uh-huh,” Ryan nods, getting more serious and lowering his voice as if he were about to tell him a secret. “I feel something weird in… you know. It’s like, a tension. I’m not sure if you understand, maybe you should take a look at it. Without fail. It’s very urgent. Life or death.”

“Really?” Brendon opens his eyes wide, listening carefully and nodding while he gets a little closer, lowering one of his hands to grab Ryan between his legs, whispering. “Here?”

Ryan jumps, making Brendon laugh, his hips thrusting a little and biting his lips while he laughs and nods.

“Right there,” he says, breathing, looking at Brendon and biting his lip this time. “Come home tonight,” he whispers, thrusting a little bit more against Brendon’s hand before moving away. “I’m gonna take that shower, a cold one. Will you be over when I’m done or should I wait for you?”

“Oh, you’re gonna give me a ride?” Brendon laughs, his face showing surprise. He shouldn’t be surprised, actually, but it’s true it’s been more than two months since Ryan doesn’t take him home. Actually, Ryan doesn’t even know his new address.

“Today I’m completely at your disposal. For everything you want,” he says with a smile, winking at him and walking to the door. “Don’t take too long. Unless you prefer the bus…”

“I’m gonna take your word,” Brendon answers, looking at him from head to toe, checking him out before going back to his desk. “So, for starters, you’re gonna wait for me, late or not. You’re at my disposal, Ross,” he reminds him, looking at him over his glasses and going back to what he was doing. Ryan looks at him for a second, his hand about to open the door, sighing dramatically.

“If it wasn’t because they could catch us, I would suck your cock right now with you on that chair. With your glasses on,” he says dreamily, sighing again. “I’ll have to wait until tonight…”

“Son of a bitch,” Brendon laughs out loud, shaking his head. “Get the fuck out of here and let me do my job. I need my blood in my head, Ryan. This one,” he adds, touching his temple. Ryan laughs and looks at him, opening the door to get out of the office, not before adding ‘I was serious about the glasses, leave them on’, making Brendon laugh and flip him off.

Bob was right, as always, and organizing a benefic game seems one of his best ideas. The rival team is already out of the playoffs, so they don’t have a problem playing with them, and Bob gives them as speech about not being a bunch of jerks and playing fair, like a friendly game.

Although the game means nothing, for Ryan it’s so much more. It’s his back to the rink, properly playing and not just practicing, after almost a moth without playing. He feels the adrenalin running through his veins and the need fills him up. He could even say he missed Bob’s boring speeches before getting on the ice.

They’re playing home, and people should be really solidary or they’re eager for hockey, because they sell out even if it’s not an official game. From the beginning, since Ryan set a foot on the rink, it feels like home, like getting back a part of him he didn’t know he was missing. The hype stays with him almost the whole game, and he plays like he always did before the injury, maybe even better.

Bob lets him rest for the second period to not force him too much, and Ryan doesn’t even care, because he can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. He enjoys the game on the benches almost as much as playing it, and the third period he goes back to the rink until the end of the game. People scream his name and even the rival team congratulates him for coming back when the game finishes and the Hounds win. Ryan can feel it in the air that the guys want to party, but Bob forbids them to party at all, because they’re too close to the final. Ryan doesn’t even hear his teammates complain, he just feels them patting on his back, ruffling his hair, smiling at him and warning him not to get injured ever again.

Brendon’s there when they get to the locker room, waiting for him with a huge smile. It doesn’t seem weird when they hug, because it’s normal, Ryan’s back and everybody’s congratulating him, even Patrick pats his back with a smile. Maybe they hug for a little too long, not thinking about where they are, but nobody notice. When they break apart, Brendon makes a face and wipes his cheek were Ryan’s sweaty hair has wet him, and they both laugh because nothing can make this feeling fade. Spencer looks at them and walks toward Ryan, and Ryan doesn’t think about anything that has happened in the past between them, he just hugs his friend who congratulates him once more.

“We can’t party, but we can celebrate with a nice dinner, right?” Says Spencer loud enough for Bob to hear and answer something about having to give their 110% the rest of the games. Spencer laughs and mocks the 110% thing, looking at Ryan. “Dinner in my house, come on. You can’t say no.”

Ryan stays in silence for a minute, biting his lips still with a smile on, and looking at Brendon and then at his friend. He really wants to share this moment with his brother, but he’s dying to share it with Brendon too, because he’s the one who has made his comeback possible. Spencer doesn’t seem in the mood to wait for an answer, not even a second, so he pats Ryan’s back and speaks.

“I’m going to the showers. You guys think about it,” he says, making a weird, almost forced gesture with his head towards Brendon, making a face then and walking away.

Brendon follows him with his look for a second, raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes huge, and then looking at Ryan shocked. Ryan smiles and looks at Spencer’s direction, his smile getting wider when he looks at Brendon.

“Would you like that?” He asks, and he’s about to add that they can go home to celebrate after, but he stops himself when he remembers where they are.

“Sure, why not?” Brendon says, scratching his nose and looking around, smiling. “I have to go to the rehabilitation room. You guys have to go there now. See you in a minute,” he says, his eyes wandering through Ryan’s mouth for a second before leaving.

Ryan showers as fast as he can, maybe because of his euphoria or because he wants to be alone with Brendon, even if it’s just for minutes. He has to wait to get in the room, but that doesn’t make him any more patient. He tells Spencer they’ll go have dinner when they meet back in the locker room again.

He stays there, talking to Tom and Blake about the game and thinking about how awesome is going to be to go back to the team for semifinals. Because they’re not classified yet, but everybody knows they will be. They can’t lose. When someone shouts his name, Ryan jumps up the bench and goes to the physio, telling Spencer to meet him outside when he’s over.

Brendon takes advantage of him to kiss him like crazy the moment Ryan gets in the room, laughing against his lips and pushing him up the stretcher while he says congratulation once more, but better this time. They don’t have time for something else than kisses, though, because Brendon has a job to do. He’s learned his lesson, and he won’t let himself go and neglect Ryan’s health even if Ryan tries to make him crazy.

Brendon pushes him out of the office when they finish, Ryan stumbling, with a serious hickey on the side of his neck, hidden by his hair. Thank God Spencer’s the only one waiting for him, because Ryan’s swollen lips couldn’t have fooled anyone.

Ryan’s lucky his and Spencer’s last names are next to each other on the list, and almost at the end of it, so he doesn’t have to wait too long for Brendon to finish. He spends those minutes talking to Spencer about dinner, feeling really betrayed when he asks him what’s he going to prepare and Spencer laughs at him, telling him he’s not cooking. Brendon gets out when Ryan’s almost threatening with going at Ginger’s for a true dinner. Their cars are barely the last ones in the parking lot, except for Bob’s and Patrick’s, but they’re just two workaholics.

“Hey, let’s go?” Ryan asks Brendon when he gets to where they are, then looking at Spencer and shaking his head. “You can’t tell someone to come to dinner and not making dinner… But, well, what else can I expect from you…”

“Stop whining, pussy. I’ll let you choose the place to order, okay? Happy?” Spencer laughs, walking to his car.

“Done,” Ryan shouts with a big smile, walking away to get to his own car. “See you there,” he says and keeps walking towards his car, looking at Brendon with his smile still on. “You can come home with me after.”

“I thought about doing it anyway even if you didn’t ask me to,” Brendon answers, laughing when he gets in the car. “We have to celebrate, right? Your comeback.”

Ryan smiles bigger, his whole face lightening up, nodding before he puts on his seat belt and starts the car. They spend the whole way talking about how fun it was, how much he’d missed it, and how much he wants to go back. Having in mind Ryan doesn’t usually talk too much, it’s like he’s drugged in some kind of way.

They don’t take long to get to Spencer’s, parking in his garage and keeping up with their jokes and conversation. Spencer throws the phone at Ryan when they get in and tells him to order dinner, winking at him and saying ‘you already know what I like’ while he goes to leave his things in the room. Brendon stays there standing near Ryan, just looking around. He doesn’t look inhibited, Brendon doesn’t get inhibited, but this is the first time he’s at Spencer’s and Spencer meant hostile field until now, so it’s normal he seems to take it carefully.

“What do you want?” Ryan asks with the phone in his hand, taking advantage of being in a safe place to slap Brendon’s ass, smiling and slipping his hand in Brendon’s back pocket.

“You’re talking about food, right?” Brendon jokes, looking at Ryan suggestively but then looking around for Spencer, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to make those jokes or not. “Order for me whatever you’re going to order for you. You have to follow your diet, I can’t allow you to skip it, not even today.”

“Not even a little bit?” Ryan fakes a pout, even if he already knew they had to follow their diet. He more than anyone must care for what he eats, now that he’s on the spotlight. “Asian?”

Brendon nods, looking back at where Spencer is now setting the table before he leans in and kiss Ryan softly, moving away immediately and telling him to order the dinner already. Ryan holds back a laugh and nods, starting to call.

While they wait for the food to arrive, Ryan makes Brendon a sign to come with him to the dining room, looking around and helping Spencer set the table. The conversation keeps going and the atmosphere feels relaxed, not so different from when he and Spencer spend time alone. Ryan feels relieved to see how his friend is making an effort and behaving around Brendon. At least he speaks acknowledging there are two more people there, not just one.

That leaves him a little more at ease when he has to go to the restroom, walking to the corridor after giving a last look at Spencer that tells him to treat Brendon well the three minutes he’ll be gone. They don’t look like they’ve talked too much when Ryan comes back, and the room is in silence, but at least they both are eating and everything looks the same as when Ryan left.

When they finish their meal, Spencer gets up and starts picking up the table telling them not to move because he’s going to bring dessert. He put emphasis saying he has cooked this one, and he looks at Ryan with a satisfied look. Ryan laughs while he watches him go, drinking the rest of his water and looking at Brendon.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hoping his attempt to make Spencer and Brendon get along is working. Brendon laughs and makes a move with his hand. He’s still a little shy, Ryan can see it in the way he’s sitting straight and he eats carefully, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry. Everything’s fine, I promise,” Brendon assures, poking at Ryan with his foot under the table, giving him a knowing look before Spencer comes back with the dessert.

“This is something new. Special,” Spencer says, not talking for a minute and breathing deep, pressing his lips together before speaking up again, in a lower voice. “I’ve taken a few classes for this,” he adds as if he were confessing something embarrassing. It probably is, for him, for mister ‘I was born with a gift for cooking’. Brendon doesn’t seem to get it, and he looks at the plate and then at Ryan, who’s trying to hold on his laugh.

“You? Taking classes? That can’t be true,” he says shaking his head. “Or do you mean teaching them? Because, of course, you already know how to do everything, right?” He says, looking at Spencer and starting to laugh. He sees Spencer turning red and Ryan’s not sure if he’s embarrassed or furious, or both. It’s still hilarious anyway.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Ross,” he orders pointing at Ryan and huffing like a bull, and he’s so red it looks like he’s going to start fuming any time soon. “It’s because of Linda, okay? It’s for…” He moves his head, putting his hand in his pocket and getting out a little jewelry box and putting it on the table unopened. “ _Somebody_ fucked up my opportunity to ask her when we got classified, so I thought I could do it when we pass to semifinals. Because we’re going to get the pass, you better not fuck it up or I’ll break your other leg,” he threatens Ryan, and it’s funny seeing him like this. “So now I’ve got time enough to do something more… special. Asking her there and then come home, do something… romantic.”

Ryan tries to stop laughing and clears his throat, getting more serious because he doesn’t want to laugh at his friend about a subject so important to him.

“I’m not the one who scores, so don’t fuck with me,” he says, looking at the box and at Spencer, then at Brendon. “He’s been saying he’s going to ask her for months now. He says he’s waiting for the perfect occasion, but I think he’s just scared as fuck just thinking about it.” Ryan smiles, looking at Spencer. “I’m kidding. I think it’s a good idea. And what are you going to do? Apart from the dessert, I mean. And don’t tell us about the after part, I can imagine already.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling you that, I’m not you,” replies Spencer, giving him a dirty look. “I’m gonna cook her favorite meal. And, I don’t know, candles, flowers… things. I asked my mom about making it publicly and she said she didn’t know if that was the best idea. But she’s a very private woman, so it doesn’t count. And I’m not gonna ask the twins, of course.” He groans, looking at his plate and taking a spoonful. “What do you say? Um. Brendon. Do you… think it’s a good idea?” Spencer asks then, and Brendon looks at him as if he just spoke another language.

“Excuse me?” Brendon’s voice sounds unsure, and he looks at Ryan and Spencer back and forth for a second, as if he was looking for something to confirm this is happening.

“About asking her when we pass to semifinals. With the cameras and…” Spencer makes a gesture with his head, opening the jewelry box and flashing the ring inside, sliding the box over the table for Ryan and Brendon to see it better. Ryan remembers that ring, he remembers seeing it on Ginger’s fingers in some old pictures, talking about the moment it would pass to the next generation.

“I, um…” Brendon looks at Ryan for the last time, looking then at Spencer and the ring, speaking with his eyes fixed on it. “Well, who doesn’t like having someone shout their love for them out loud to the world?” He answers, laughing a little and moving his head. “It’s a beautiful ring, too. And that way you will have two reasons to celebrate.” He nods, looking back at Spencer cautious before he keeps talking. “She won’t even remember the cameras when you ask her. I think it’s a beautiful gesture, you know… Turning a personal celebration into something, well, for both of you.”

“Linda will like it,” Ryan says, clearing his throat and looking at the ring before he looks back at Spencer and grabs his spoon to start with the dessert. It’s not like he was thinking about making his relationship with Brendon public, given the circumstances. But, even already knowing Brendon’s not one of those who hides, hearing him say those words has make a helplessness feeling twist in his stomach.

“Okay…” Spencer says, nodding and looking at his spoon for a moment before he closes the box and puts it away. He takes a spoonful, looking then at Ryan and Brendon. “Well, what? Try it and tell me, dammit!” He hurries them, making Brendon jump in his chair but smile a little too, starting to eat his dessert. Ryan does the same, taking a spoonful and eating it. He looks at Spencer and speaks before even swallowing.

“Fuck it, why don’t you marry me? We know each other since forever. I’m easy, Spencer,” Ryan says, swallowing his food. Spencer looks up at him with huge eyes and absolutely pale for a second before Ryan says his name, blinking then and letting out a laugh that sounds like relief, nodding.

“That good, huh?” Spencer says, spooning his dessert and nodding. “You lost your chance, Ross. And now it’s legal and everything…” He jokes, pointing at the plate. “I’d promise my wedding cake will be as good but, obviously, I won’t make it, so…”

Ryan makes a face and keeps eating, looking then at Brendon and staring for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Hey, Bren. You’ve never made dessert for me; do you know how to make them? Spencer could teach you,” he jokes, looking at Brendon with an innocent face and smiling. Brendon looks at him with his spoon in his mouth, sliding it down and keeping it in his hand when he opens his mouth. He looks at Ryan and at Spencer at the same time, starting to shake his head no while he blushes.

“I don’t… I’m really bad at cooking,” he says, looking at Spencer who looks back at him equally shocked, looking back to Ryan and clearing his throat. “Although, I could… If you want. I mean. Not like this, this is… This is really good, Spencer.”

Ryan laughs soft and looks at Brendon almost fondly, biting his lips and poking at Brendon with his foot under the table.

“I was joking, Bren,” he says honestly. Ryan was trying to make Brendon loosen up a bit and make him tell him to go make his own desserts or something like that. Brendon nods and spoon his dessert again, blushing even more. “But thanks. Maybe I’ll try to cook something one of these days,” he adds, going back to his plate and lowering his hand for a second to squeeze Brendon’s leg.

“Do that after the Stanley Cup, okay?” Spencer says, laughing with a smirk when he looks at Ryan. “I’m just saying, because it’ll be hard to play with the team star and the physio in the hospital for food poisoning.”

“Fuck off, I don’t cook that bad,” says Ryan, finishing his dessert and leaving the spoon on the plate before flipping off Spencer. “If I know the steps and the measures and stuff, I can do it.”

“That’s not how you cook, fucker. That’s like trying to dance just learning the moves… Although, well, it’s not like you can dance either…” Spencer adds, laughing at him shamelessly and finishing his dessert.

“Have you finished making a list of things I can’t do, asshole?” Ryan asks sarcastically. Spencer laughs, looking at him thinking what else to say.

“Well, you know what they say of those who can’t dance for shit…” Says Spencer, looking at Ryan and adding shamelessly. “They can’t fuck for shit.”

Brendon snorts a laugh suddenly, covering his mouth but laughing anyway, starting to shake his head no when he can’t help but keep laughing. Ryan looks at him and smirks, looking back at Spencer and making a self-sufficient face.

“I don’t even have to answer that because not even you believe what you’re saying,” he says. Spencer looks at him with a mocking face, laughing sideways.

“I don’t know anything, I’ve never seen you in action. For what I’ve seen, you may be a virgin and I wouldn’t know,” Spencer jokes back. If Ryan didn’t have so much respect for Ginger, he would strike back telling Spencer to ask his mother.

“Is this because you want to see me in action? Is that what you want?” Ryan asks, raising an eyebrow to Spencer. “Because there are some boundaries in friendship you shouldn’t overstep, Spencer. You don’t want to discover you’re the shitty one when it comes to fucking.”

Spencer opens wide his eyes and mouth, totally offended while Brendon laughs out loud again, this time not even trying to hold it.

“Look, kid, if it were you the one seeing me, you would be in shock, you’d be so humiliated,” Spencer says, “you would end up crying, Ross. Brendon would leave you right away for me. I won’t indulge him, of course, because I have my lady and stuff, but yeah.”

“Wow,” Brendon looks at Ryan with huge eyes, still laughing. “And I though no one could compete with you when it came to ego.”

“Compared to Spencer, I have the lowest self-esteem ever,” Ryan murmurs, smiling before he looks at Spencer and clicks his tongue, making a superior face. “You know what’s the problem here, Spence? That I have someone to corroborate what I’m saying, and you don’t.”

“Hey, don’t use me!” Brendon defends himself, looking at both of them while he laughs. “I won’t corroborate anything,” he says, and Spencer laughs victorious right before Brendon looks at Ryan sideways and raising an eyebrow. “Unless someone promises me a reward…”

“Do you remember the day I came back to practice?” Ryan asks, smiling victorious when he sees on Brendon’s face he knows what he’s talking about. “There you go. Now tell this asshole my techniques are more than satisfactory,” he adds, sticking his tongue at Spencer. Brendon looks at him and licks his lips unconsciously, looking back at Spencer.

“He’s fucking good. I mean literally,” Brendon says, letting out a little laugh when Spencer groans and looks away.

“Oh my God, shut up!” Spencer asks, shutting his eyes as if he were seeing it in front of him.

“I’ve not even started!” Brendon replies, looking at Ryan and pouting a little. “I’ve not even started,” he repeats softer this time, staring at Ryan. Ryan looks at his lips and bites his own, leaning in to kiss him, mostly because he can’t help it, but also because he likes to bother Spencer.

“And you don’t need to!” Spencer adds quickly, making Brendon burst out a laugh and look away to go back to his dessert while Spencer doesn’t stop ranting. Ryan looks at his friend with a smile and licks his lips, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning back on his chair without taking away his hand from Brendon.

“You don’t need to be jealous, Spencer. I’m sure Linda is happy with you, or she would have dumped you already. I won’t say she’ll come to me because she hates me a little, but she wouldn’t be with you if you were useless,” he says, shrugging.

“Fuck you, Ross,” Spencer answers, making a bored face, and making Brendon laugh again, looking at Ryan from the corner of his eye while he finishes his dessert, leaving his spoon over his bottom lip.

“That’s a good idea,” says Brendon, smiling at him sideways. Ryan looks at him and the smile on his face turns dangerous as he raises an eyebrow, his eyes lowering to Brendon’s mouth for a moment before looking back at his eyes. And it’s curious, because Ryan never wanted to be anything else than a hockey player but, if he’d had any other option, he doesn’t think being a spoon would be one of them. Right now, while he looks at Brendon’s, he’s honestly considering it.

“Yeah?” He asks, laughing a little because all of the answers that come to his mind are too explicit to tell them in front of Spencer. For some reason, although he never had a problem being explicit with his best friend, now it seems like overstepping. “Do you like the idea? I don’t think it’s a bad one, either. Thanks for the suggestion, Spence.”

He can see how Brendon swallows deep and gets hooked on Ryan’s eyes at the same time Spencer gets up, picking up his plate almost rudely, doing the same with the rest and making them clink when he piles them up.

“Enough. Party’s over. Get out of here,” Spencer moves his hand to make them leave, wrinkling his nose when he looks at Ryan. “The last thing I need is you two ending up fucking on my dining table. Knowing I have to use the stretcher you disgraced is enough,” he says, and Brendon opens his eyes wide, looking at Ryan shocked and embarrassed.

“Sorry, he asked and I’m not good at lying,” says Ryan looking at Brendon, trying not to burst out a laugh and failing when he looks back at Spencer. “Come on, Spencer, it’s a joke. You got yourself in there by yourself; you should have shut your mouth. I promise we can control ourselves. It’s rude making your guest leave like this.”

Spencer flips him off while he walks to the kitchen to take the dishes there, putting them in the dishwasher and looking at Ryan from the distance. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, walking to the fridge and disappearing for a moment from Ryan’s visual range. When he comes back, he brings three beer bottles in his hands, and he makes a gesture for them to join him in the living room, making them promise it’ll be just a beer and they can’t say a word to Bob about this.

Ryan lets himself fall on the couch and leans back a little, sipping at his beer still smiling because his laugh died on his lips just a while ago. Brendon looks infinitely more relaxed now, sitting closer to him when he does, leaning back on the couch and letting their knees touch. He doesn’t even look the same person that came in a few hours ago. Ryan smiles at him big when he turns his head to look at him, hitting Brendon’s leg soft with his own.

They spend the time talking about a lot of things and, this time, Brendon intervenes much more than he did at the beginning of the night, to the point that Ryan stays silent more than once just to observe Spencer’s and Brendon’s interaction. He feels relieved to be able to be like this, to see them talk to each other and be in the same room without the feeling that something’s about to break any time. It feels good. He makes a mental note to thank Spencer the effort he’s done, inviting them here and acting like he has. It’s not like Brendon’s acting like he really is, Ryan knows he’s still shy around Spencer, but Ryan knows very few people who doesn’t get shy around Spencer, and he can almost predict Brendon will be one of them with time.

They end up staying late, not too much because Ryan’s internal clock is used to live almost like a hermit when it comes to this time of the season, but enough to know the night has gone better than he could have expected. Ryan says goodbye to Spencer with a hug that last longer than it should as a thank you that he knows his friend would understand, and he allows himself to put his arm around Brendon’s shoulders while they walk to his car.

 

 

 


	12. Offside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"This is the eeend, beautiful friend. This is the eeend, my only friend, the end"_. Am I crazy or I can really hear The Doors playing in the distance? Don't mind me, it's just that I can't _believe_ we're finally here. We did it! And it's been a hell of a journey where I've discovered I won't make a living out of translating things, my goodness, what an tedious job. But if anything, anything at all, has kept me going (and I'm sure xipy would say the same) it's been the awful lot of love you guys have shown to us. And now that this journey comes to an end, I just can say thank you, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter as much as we have enjoyed writing it for you all.

 

 

12.

 

The bad side of being in a championship at this level is the days before the matches they can’t make any plans. The day of the match the team always assemble in the stadium early in the morning so they can do whatever they do to be focused and not to be distracted, but the previous day is even worse. Ryan doesn’t like that day too much when he’s not with Spencer or goes to the gym because he’s not imprisoned in the stadium, he can be at home, but he’s not allowed to do anything else either. Also, Ryan has that anxious feeling that doesn’t let him do anything like watch movies, play Xbox or play with the dogs in the backyard. He was tempted to work out in the gym for a while but his physical condition is perfect and he doesn’t want to overwork unnecessarily, he already made that mistake once.

Instead, he’s lying down on the couch and, for the first time since he finished lunch, he is paying attention to something that’s making him relax a little, even though his legs don’t stop moving, bended on the seat. He’s reading with Zeppelin snuggled next to him on the floor and the house in complete silence, not like that morning, when he was listening to music, running with his four bugs after him and even cleaning his wardrobe. Ryan could do nothing if he wanted to, but being forced to it bores him to death.

He knows something has changed in the house when Zeppelin stands up suddenly and starts to wig his tail, looking at the door. Ryan frowns and puts the book down, looking at his dog and then to the door. He’s about to call security and ask if they let anyone in when the sound of knuckles against wood echoes in the room. He feels even more confused because there’re not many people who his security guard lets in that easily and he didn’t expect any of them.

He lets the open book on the seat and goes to the door with Zeppelin walking happily next to him, his tongue out and his tail wiggling excited. Whoever it is, at least Ryan knows his dog knows them. Brendon’s smile, between guilty and enthusiastic, blinds him right after he opens the door, becoming into a laugh when Zeppelin throws himself at him, almost making him fall and making the bag on Brendon’s hand sound.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Brendon apologizes fast, putting his hands together for a second before he keeps petting the dog, “it’s just I saw something and I had to come to show you. Well, give it to you. And I swear I’ll leave as soon as I do, but you have to see it.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Ryan rolls his eyes with a smile, grabbing Zeppelin by the collar to pull him apart from Brendon and stepping aside to let him in, closing the door when he’s inside. “You don’t have to call. Or apologize,” he adds, getting closer to kiss him on the cheek.

Brendon smiles at him and kisses him again on the lips, walking inside and making the rest of the dogs come closer to greet him, jumping and barking, throwing him a party like they always do before they get bored and go back to what they were doing before. All of them except Rat, because that dog has a thing for Brendon Ryan will never understand.

“I went to an antiques market with Jacky. It’s not really an antiques one, or it is, but no just that.” Brendon moves his hands, trying to explain himself. “You have to know about it, it’s famous here or so it seems. I don’t know, I never heard about it but Jacky knows about those vintage things and he wanted to see if there was something for the house. Amanda is working, so I had to go with him, of course,” he says, rolling his eyes a little but smiling again. “I thought it was going to be boring but it wasn’t bad. Until I saw this.” He grabs the bag with both hands and gives it to Ryan before sitting on the couch, looking at him totally excited. “And I couldn’t help thinking about you and I had to buy it. It’s awful, but it’s awesome. And I hope you like it, because I can’t use it if you don’t.”

Ryan makes a face between confused and surprised, looking at Brendon with a smile before he opens the bag to see what’s inside. And Brendon always has a way to surprise him, so of all the things Ryan could think about finding, he would have never imagined _this_. In the bag there’s what it looks like a small hockey kit and, as he takes the things out of the bag, he realizes that it is, in fact, just that. An almost doll size hockey kit, with a stick and a helmet included. Ryan has a moment of shock as he tries to think why Brendon bought him that until Rat walks by in front of him and Ryan has a revelation.

“Oh my God!” he says, his eyes growing huge like his smile, looking at Brendon and then at the kit and then at Rat before he looks at Brendon again. “It’s awesome!” he laughs, watching the small jersey and letting the bag fall down to the floor when he gets out the stick and the helmet too.

“Right?!” Brendon gets closer, grabbing the jersey and the two fake hands sticking out its sleeves. “The stick goes here, you put this on her and it’s like the front paws are feet. And the helmet is more or less like a muzzle. It’s so cute. And it will look good on Rat for sure.”

“I love it,” says Ryan with a smile, looking for his dog with his eyes. “Let’s try it on Rat. Call her. She barely listens to me when you are here.”

Brendon laughs and calls Rat, who doesn’t need to hear her name twice before jumping on his leg and throwing herself at Brendon’s lap, wiggling her tail and barking until Brendon rubs her head. Ryan takes advantage of it and gets closer to them with the shirt on his hands, standing right in front of Brendon to try and put it on the dog. He has to try a few times but once the shirt is past Rat head Brendon rubs her again and she forgets she has something strange on her.

“Now I have to take pictures and send them to the team,” Ryan says as he reaches out with his hand to grab the helmet, smiling like a kid opening Christmas presents. “They’re gonna love it.”

Putting the helmet on her is harder, but Brendon seems capable of win her over so, in the end, she just gives in. Ryan can’t stop laughing when the dog has the whole kit on, and Brendon leaves her on the floor so she starts running, making it even funnier now that the stick moves everywhere and it looks like she’s really playing hockey. Brendon himself takes out his phone, calling Rat and taking photos lying on the floor so the angle is better, joking and telling Ryan he’s going to take an artistic photography so he can hang it on the wall with the rest of Ryan’s pictures.

Ryan is so busy laughing hard, twisting on the couch, he doesn’t even answer to that. He takes out his phone when he calms down a little, filming his dog running through the living room with the hockey kit. He sends it to the guys and leaves the phone on the table, watching Rat moving everywhere, laughing from time to time when she does something amusing.

Rat doesn’t take long before she’s growling at them and shaking her head, trying to take the helmet off and starting to bite the stick. Or, at least, trying. She ends up taking off the helmet and Brendon grabs her on his arms, taking off her shirt and snuggling with her, telling Ryan to go and get some candy to give her for being so good. Rat eats them quickly from Brendon’s hand but she doesn’t take long before she runs away.

“Oh, man. I think she’s not going to love me so much after this.” Brendon laughs, pouting a little. Ryan coughs, his throat raw after laughing so much, leaning back on the couch still smiling.

“She’ll forget soon. She’s in love with you, those things get forgiven,” he says, reaching out to Brendon with his arm, squeezing where his hand first touches. Brendon looks at him, smiling soft and looking again where Rat ran away before he looks at Ryan again.

“Well. I’ll let you with you routine, I don’t want you to skip it because of me. You have an important match tomorrow,” he says, leaning in and leaving a soft kiss on Ryan’s lips as he stands up. Ryan stops him half way, grabbing his wrist and smiling.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, pulling on him so he comes back to the couch. “I was bored, there’s no routine the day before a match. Or there is, but not one I was fulfilling. Also, I didn’t thank you for the present,” he adds, smiling big. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome?” Brendon says, letting out a small laugh as he gets closer to Ryan, so much there isn’t almost inches between them. “My duty is telling you to forget whatever you’re thinking about and get on with that routine you’re not fulfilling,” he explains, licking his lips and pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Although I don’t know if you’ll listen to me…”

“Not at all,” Ryan says, his eyes looking at Brendon’s lips for a moment. “Also, I’m not thinking about anything, I swear. It’s just that you don’t have to go so early,” he adds, making a gesture with his face, begging, and leaning it closer to Brendon’s.

“I can stay, if you want,” Brendon answers, smiling small and moving his head, caressing Ryan’s cheek with his nose, speaking softly close to his ear. “Do you want to?”

“I want to,” Ryan nods, smiling triumphant and putting his arm around Brendon’s waist, grabbing him softly, almost just leaving it there. Brendon makes an acceptance sound with his throat, rubbing himself against Ryan and leaving a kiss behind his ear before he seats back on the couch, putting his feet on the table and looking at him amused.

“Okay. I’ll stay,” he answers smiling, looking at him with a satisfied face. Ryan has to blink a couple of times because his eyes were already closed and he was starting to get into that atmosphere Brendon always gets him when he talks to him and touches him like that. Suddenly he feels like he was left naked and brought to light, which he was starting to think about doing but not in the same way.

He sighs and moves on the couch, lying down on the seat with his head resting on a cushion, looking towards Brendon and stretching his legs over Brendon’s lap. Something hard digs into his back when he gets comfortable and he gets his hand between the seat and his own body to get out the book he was reading before, closing it and leaving it on the couch.

“How are things going with Jacky?” he asks out of the blue, his mouth letting out the words before they go through his mind. “I mean, are you okay living with him and Amanda? No problems?”

Brendon looks at him surprised and confused for a few seconds, smiling then and making a gesture with his head, getting more comfortable on the sofa and resting his hands on Ryan’s legs, playing with the pant’s fabric between his fingers.

“Yeah, well, the usual. It’s better than where I lived before because of the transport, closeness, safeness…” he says, laughing a little. “And I prefer to live with someone instead of living alone, but well,” he makes a face,” they’re a couple. It’s fine because I don’t spent so much time at home but there are moments where… you know, they want to be alone and all that. It’s temporary, anyway, until the season ends and I start working somewhere else, with a full salary and all that. Then I’ll be able to look for something just for me that’s better than Washington Park.”

“Where would you like to work?” Ryan asks, curious. Out of all the conversations they had had, work was hardly ever present or, at least, the future work when this is over.

“Oh, with the St. Louis, of course,” Brendon answers quickly, bursting out laughing as he slides his hand up Ryan’s side to pinch him. “I don’t know. Being here is going to give me credentials, for sure, but it’s not like I’m going to be able to work in the national league for a long time. It would be cool working with some minor leagues team, whatever sport, even though I have to admit…” he wrinkles his nose, looking at Ryan, “someone has made me being more interested in hockey than I ever thought.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks with a smile. “That someone is a wise one, I tell you.” He laughs, hitting him softly on his thigh with his foot. “It’s a shame. The national league teams usually have already their medical team established and it’s hard there’s a vacant… But well, it might work in a future. If you want I can injury some players of the same team so they fire the physio for being incompetent.”

“Aww.” Brendon laughs, looking at Ryan. “You’re such a romantic. Breaking legs for me, it’s a beautiful offer, Ryan,” he jokes, laughing more then. Ryan laughs too and nods.

“One thing, though, you can’t let yourself be seduced by some player,” he says, raising a finger in a warning gesture. “They say some of them have tricks to pick up new physiotherapists.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Brendon answers, sighing. “I think I’ve developed a weakness for hockey players. You’ll have to keep seducing me so that doesn’t happen.”

Ryan frowns and hits him again with his foot, this time a little harder than before, making Brendon bursts out laughing.

“Right, so I won’t have to compete just inside the rink but out of it too, with all those muscled men you’ll be touching everyday,” he says with sarcasm, flipping him off. Brendon keeps smiling at him, watching Ryan with half smile.

“In fact, I know of several players that have private pshysios. Maybe someone is interested,” he says, biting his lip and smiling darker. “I think Erikson could do with some extra sessions, don’t you think? I can send him my résumé.”

“Fuck off, Urie,” Ryan says, and being him the one who started this conversation, it’s starting being not funny. He knows it doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t make him like it more. He reaches out with his arm and moves just to push Brendon, making a face. Brendon lets himself being pushed, falling to the other side of the couch, laughing before he pulls on Ryan’s pants and bites him on the ankle, laughing more when he doesn’t let him go, drooling all over his skin. Ryan can’t help but laugh too, calling him gross and telling him he looks like one of his dogs between laughs, trying to escape from his hold without accidentally hitting him.

“You’re not gonna keep me like that! Comparing me to a dog…” Brendon complains, biting him harder and holding him, trying to tickle Ryan as he twists on the couch. “I should go for Erikson. Do you think he has a nice dick?”

“Well, if you’re so interested, go check it out,” Ryan answers, losing the complaining tone because he’s still laughing. “Go, go. I see how this works.”

“Oh. Okay,” Brendon says, starting to untangle from him to stand up, still with the smile on his face, holding on Ryan to get out of where he is. “I’ll send you a picture.”

Ryan flips him off again, with both hands this time, hitting him with his legs where he can but being careful not to hurt him.

“You’re an asshole,” he grumbles, crossing his arms still lying on the couch, shooting him a dirty look and trying to hold his laugh. Brendon bursts a laugh, staying over Ryan and gasping a little because of the effort of laughing, crawling over him. He sits on his lap, leaning with his forearms on Ryan’s chest.

“How do you want it? Huh?” he asks, pushing some locks of hair away from his face and looking at Ryan with bright eyes, licking his lips. “From what angle? You want to see how does he fuck me from behind? Or do you prefer me riding him?” he asks, rolling his hips to emphasize his last sentence.

Ryan grunts and makes a gesture, confused about the mixed sensations. He brings his hands to Brendon’s hips and holds him hard, trying to stop him.

“There’s no photograph, are we clear? And no fucking, either,” he states, looking at Brendon and sliding one hand up so he can pinch him over one hip. “That motherfucker can go look for his own physiotherapist, or you can work for a feminine team.”

“Killjoy,” Brendon complains, wrinkling his lips and leaning his hands against Ryan’s chest to sit up. “I’ll let you know that, if I were bi, you wouldn’t be safe in a feminine team either. But well…I’ll have to find someone who satisfies my needs in another place…”

“I don’t satisfy your needs now, either? That offends me,” Ryan says. “Apart from the fact that you want to find yourself another man.”

“Well, you have me here and I don’t see my needs satisfied anywhere,” Brendon answers, looking around and going back to Ryan, shrugging. “Once more, reality backs me up.”

“You’re being particularly evil today, are you having a bad day?” Ryan comments, but he smiles because he’s not taking seriously anything Brendon is saying, even though the idea of him being with another man is making him lose the soft tone of the conversation.

“I brought your dog a costume. I think that’s far from being evil,” Brendon replies, making a superiority gesture with his face before he moves to get off Ryan, sitting on the couch again.

“Why are you going away?” Ryan asks, hitting him with his foot as if that way he was going to make him come back, looking at him disappointed. “It’s the second time you start something and you leave me hanging.”

Brendon looks at him confused for a second, frowning and laughing then, shaking his head no.

“No. It’s the second time I start something and you don’t follow. A man must know when to stop,” he answers, twisting his lips. Ryan watches him and lifts an eyebrow, not understanding what he’s talking about. It’s not that it matters, anyway, he just wants this to go where it’s supposed to.

“Clearly, there’s something that hasn’t worked like it should these last minutes. Why don’t you come back here and try again?” he says, reaching out with his hand and making a gesture so Brendon gets closer with a crooked smile. Brendon looks at him, then at his hand before he makes a soft gesture and gets closer, not sitting on his lap again but letting his leg a little over Ryan’s.

“Like this?” he asks, twisting his lips. “Or do I have to try some other way? I’m all ears.”

Ryan grabs him by the wrist and pulls him hard with a short laugh, making Brendon fall over him on the couch and looking at him as he nods.

“That’s better,” he says, opening his legs a little so Brendon can easily get between them, bringing his hands to Brendon’s sides. “When have I turned this down? Do you think I am that crazy?” he asks, murmuring, leaning in his head so he can bite his cheek. He can feel Brendon smiling before he sees him, leaning back enough to look at his face.

“I don’t know… you told me to go look for another man,” Brendon answers, making a grumped gesture with his lips. “And you didn’t do anything about it when I said my needs weren’t satisfied.”

“I was too busy trying to stop thinking about another man fucking you, idiot. You were the one who brought it out,” he says, pushing Brendon’s hair away from his face with one hand and wrinkling his nose as he says it.

“You were the one who didn’t follow me and started talking about Jacky and work the first time,” Brendon replies, using the same tone that Ryan, mocking him.

“That was because I was getting in the mood when you got away. I thought you didn’t… You know? Fuck it. Let’s start from the beginning and make up for the wasted time having this stupid conversation,” Ryan answers, not letting Brendon talk before he grabs him from the back of the neck and pulls him in to kiss him. There’s nothing soft about the gesture, but Ryan doesn’t intend to be so he bites him and licks him eagerly, opening his mouth beneath Brendon’s.

Brendon grunts into the kiss, murmuring something like ‘finally’, holding on the couch with one hand as he moves the other one and gets it under Ryan’s shirt. He slides his hand up, touching him eagerly as he keeps kissing him hard, pushing his hips against Ryan’s all he can and moving so he can create friction between them.

“So, are you going to fuck me or do I have to go to Erikson?” Brendon asks between gasps with a mischievous smile when he breaks the kiss, lifting an eyebrow.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan answers, biting his chin hard as a punishment and getting one hand between their bodies, bringing it to Brendon’s crotch and grabbing him there, rubbing his palm over him. “You’re going to forget that asshole even exists.”

Brendon lets out a rough laugh, biting hard his own lip and thrusting against Ryan’s hand, letting him feel how he gets hard beneath it. He moans softly before he kisses Ryan again, gasping into his mouth and leaving his eyes open so he can’t stop looking at him as he starts moving against his hand, making it touch him up and down, from the head to the base. Ryan watches him hypnotized, breathing in his mouth and feeling his own body going from normal to totally burning just in seconds.

“It doesn’t make sense. I know,” he whispers, moving his hand at Brendon’s pace and grabbing his ass with the other one. “But it makes me angry thinking about you with another man.”

“It’s good I’m not going to be with another man, then,” Brendon answers, moving his body to get closer to Ryan’s both hands, looking for the touch all he can. Ryan lets out a breathy laugh and takes his hands away a few seconds after that so he can start undressing Brendon, moving fast and uncontrolled, as if Brendon’s clothes burned his palms.

Brendon moves to give him room, pulling at his own clothes, grabbing himself from the base when he’s naked and touching himself softly as he gets over Ryan again, using his free hand to get it under Ryan’s shirt and lifting it just a little, looking at him, watching him as he touches himself. Ryan feels his body gaining temperature from the inside, his throat getting dry as he looks at Brendon with liquid eyes.

Ryan stays still for a few seconds, unable to move and just looking at Brendon’s face and his hand moving over his dick and all over again. When he reacts, he starts to take off his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall on the floor before he goes to his pants, which are clearly a bit tighter than before. Brendon grabs his wrists then, preventing Ryan to push his jeans down once they’re open, looking at Ryan and swallowing as he licks his lips.

“No. No, wait,” he says, pushing Ryan’s hands away and taking advantage of it to touch him softly with his fingers, tracing him over the underwear. “Leave them on. Like this, okay? I want to…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, gasping when he touches Ryan with his hand open, feeling the temperature contrast before he starts descending over his body, pulling on the boxers just enough to let his cock out. Ryan doesn’t care about what Brendon was going to say, he just bites his lip and lets him do whatever he wants, watching him the whole time.

Brendon gets between his legs, grabbing him in his fist before leaning in and touching him with his lips. It’s just a touch at first, almost subtle if it wasn’t because Brendon’s lips tremble with want and he seems to shake when they press against Ryan burning skin, like arching to the touch. Brendon licks his lips to leave wet kisses, starting to run his lips over him, up and down, not leaving any inch uncovered by his full lips. He opens his mouth when he gets to the head, drawing away just a little to stick his tongue out and let a drop of spit fall right on the head, spreading it over Ryan’s length with his thumb before he closes his lips around him and pushes his tongue against him, circling him, evolving him.

Ryan moans and gasps and laughs all at once, shaking his head and biting his lip hard, grasping the cushions not to thrust roughly into Brendon’s mouth because, as much as he knows he can do it, he wants this torture right now. He’s that masochist sometimes.

“It’s not fair,” he breathes, letting out a raw moan and letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling, blinking fast to focus and feeling his legs trembling already, and they’re just starting. “This… I wanted. Oh, fuck. I wanted to do that. Jesus _Christ_ , Bren, your mouth.”

Brendon laughs through his nose, licking his totally red lips when he draws back, keeping the touches with his hand, softly, so he can still feel the pleasure but he can’t get to the edge.

“That what you wanted?” he asks with a broken voice, bringing his hand to Ryan’s neck and pulling on him to make him sit up, searching his mouth right after, kissing him deep and letting Ryan’s taste invade him when Brendon’s touches him with his tongue. Brendon doesn’t stop touching him but he pulls on him even more, leaning back on the couch and bringing Ryan with him without stopping the kiss. “Do it. Come on. Suck my cock,” he says, breaking the kiss with a wet sound and guiding Ryan with the hand on his neck down his body, tangling his fingers through his hair. Ryan growls and lets himself be guided, looking up at Brendon with a crooked smile, licking his lips when he gets where he wants them.

His skin is still prickling and he feels the effect of having Brendon’s mouth on him, but his whole body reacts when he hears him talk, his throat getting dry as he wraps him with his hand and his mouth waters. He sticks out his tongue to taste him, licking him from his balls to the tip of his dick with his tongue flat, letting out a deep groan because the need of doing this is giving him goosebumps. He leaves a kiss on the head of Brendon’s cock, stroking him up and down with his hand, letting him rub against his lips softly for a few seconds before he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around him properly this time.

Brendon moans deep as he tighten his hold on Ryan’s hair, moving his hips softly, opening his legs more to give him more room and pushing so he can see how much can he get into his mouth. He doesn’t last long, because Brendon is not a person who knows the meaning of the word self-control, and even less when he has _carte blanche_ , so he just needs Ryan to get adjusted to him, leaving his tongue flat and reaching a good pace before he starts moving in earnest, faster, harder. He holds Ryan where he has him, preventing him to move away as he starts to thrust into his mouth, letting Ryan’s spit slide down his length and his heartbeat speeding up. Brendon looks at him in ecstasy, using his free hand to caress Ryan’s cheek, licking his lips when he touches Ryan’s with his thumb. Brendon moans desperate and scratches Ryan where he’s holding him, digging is nails down, rubbing his hand and making knots in his hair.

Ryan’s cock twitches and he groans, his eyes closing on its own accord and almost rolling back, his whole skin standing up on end. The spit gathers in his mouth and it wets his chin and he feels his lips used and raw, stretched out the best way possible. Everything around him smells like Brendon, tastes like Brendon and sounds like Brendon, and Ryan doesn’t remember enjoying this with anyone else ever before. He always liked doing it, but now he’s sure he could do just this and be satisfied enough.

He feels Brendon shaking a little, tightening his grip, and he doesn’t last long before he’s being pulled back and away from Brendon’s dick as Brendon grabs himself from the base and squeezes, looking at him with huge eyes and gasping for air, shaking all over. He has to blink a few times and catch his breath, still squeezing hard around himself and untangling his shaky fingers from Ryan’s hair before he can talk.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan,” Brendon moans, looking down where his cock is dark, impossibly hard, looking up at Ryan again when he touches himself softly, slippery with Ryan’s spit. “I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” Ryan gasps, taking his mouth back to Brendon’s body but avoiding his cock this time, bringing his open lips right bellow his belly button in a wet kiss and starting to crawl up over his belly and chest, using his hands to touch his thighs with his palms open, covering all he can of Brendon’ skin. Ryan lets out a sound of approval, as if he were savoring the menu and he were loving every bit. “I think I can make you hard again while I’m still inside you,” he adds, looking up at Brendon with a mischievous smile, circling one of his nipples with his tongue and feeling Brendon’ skin stand up on end beneath his hands, writhing.

“Ryan,” he calls him, the desperation showing in his voice, releasing himself to look for Ryan, touching him between his legs and circling the head of Ryan’s cock with his damp fingers. “Come on.”

Ryan takes Brendon’s nipple between his teeth and bites, licking with his tongue right after. He slides his hand up and brings two fingers to Brendon’s mouth, touching his lips, getting them inside when he has enough room. He thrusts inside and out Brendon’s mouth with them, still running his own over his chest, watching him as Brendon wets his fingers. He runs his tongue over them, moaning and hollowing his cheeks but shaking his head no and grunting when he gets them out.

“No. Come on,” he asks, grabbing Ryan and getting him closer to his body. “I don’t want your fingers. I want your cock. I don’t need it, I swear. Ryan, please.”

“Just…” Ryan starts, losing his capacity of forming words for a moment, bringing his fingers between Brendon’s ass cheeks and swallowing when he touches him there. “Just a moment, I promise. I just want…” he doesn’t finish the sentence before he pushes in with his fingers, feeling the ring muscle give in and letting him in, making him moan and lean in to bite Brendon’s bottom lip.

Brendon’s body moves on its own, pushing against Ryan’s fingers to make them slide in to his knuckles, growling and twisting, gasping against Ryan’s mouth before he kisses him as if he was trying to eat him up. He wraps his legs around Ryan’s waist and brings his hands to his ass, sliding them under the fabric to dig his nails into the flesh, pushing him against his body as he moves to make Ryan’s fingers slide in and out of his body. They’re so close Ryan can feel Brendon’s cock wet and jumping between their bodies, and he moves his fingers faster, not because he wants him to reach the edge but because he enjoys seeing Brendon writhing beneath him and he’s going to get them out soon.

When he does, he makes sure of touching him right on the spot just before he gets them out, using that same hand to grip and guide himself, shifting so he gets in place before he starts to push in again, this time with his cock. The tight, hot feeling makes him moan from his throat and he doesn’t stop until he can’t push anymore, feeling his own dick pulsing inside Brendon, his heartbeat echoing in his ears and the sweat starting to gather in his forehead and back.

He feels Brendon melt when he feels him inside, pushing with his hands on Ryan’s ass so he doesn’t stop. He just let a few seconds go by to adjust before he starts moving again, sliding his hands up Ryan’s back and holding on him as he shakes, looking at him with his eyes lost and his body liquid.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, like it was a revelation, as if the orgasm were so inevitable it wasn’t up to his body, something external that overcomes him and he can’t control.

Ryan changes the angle lightly and thrusts harder, because if Brendon is going to come already, he wants him to do it with all the stimulation he can give him. He brings his hand between their bodies to wrap it around Brendon, not needing to move it much because his hips already create enough friction, gasping and looking at Brendon with determination in his dark eyes, looking for his goal. Brendon shakes his head no again, grabbing Ryan’s wrist so hard he digs his nails in the flesh, moving it away roughly.

“No. No, just…,” he says, and the sentence gets stuck in his throat when the orgasm explodes suddenly like it were a lighting going through him, tensing up from head to toe, squeezing Ryan against him and spilling all over their bodies, moaning and rubbing against the couch and Ryan like he had electricity on his skin. He doesn’t release him, doesn’t stop grabbing Ryan with his hands and legs, urging him to keep going, not to stop. “Go on, _God_ , keep going. Fuck me until I’m hard again. Make me come once more.”

Ryan didn’t intend to stop, after Brendon’s body let him move again. He starts to obey almost before he finishes the sentence, starting to thrust with his hips with the same force than before but less stability. He feels his own body losing control over his movements a little because the feelings overwhelm him, giving him goosebumps and making him moan as he kisses Brendon again. Ryan closes his eyes and brings his hand up to hold on the armrest and use it to help his movements. It’s easy making Brendon hard again because he doesn’t even lose the erection and he just slides hard against Ryan’s belly when their bodies collide, wet with sweat and his previous orgasm.

The air gets stuck in his throat with every intake of breath, his chest raising and falling as if his lungs were putting all its efforts to work properly, the warmth running over him in waves starting in the center of his body and going to every one of his cells. Brendon seems to be in another world, surrendered to the feelings and letting Ryan do whatever he wants with him, looking at his eyes like he were the only connection point with reality. His muscles tense sometimes, every time Ryan hits hard and Brendon moans raw, rubbing against the couch, his hair soaked in sweat sticking to his skin. He looks for Ryan’s mouth and kisses him softly, carefully, giving him chills because of the contrast of the sweetness with his brutal movements.

“I want you to come,” Brendon whispers with a soft voice, melting against Ryan’s lips. “I want to feel you inside. I want to feel how you drip down my legs.”

“Keep talking and you won’t have to wait too long,” Ryan gasps between broken moans, his hips stumbling and his mouth opening so he can breathe. “And, if you’re still hard when I’m done, you’re gonna come in my mouth.”

“Yes. Yes, I want that.” Brendon nods with his head, his eyes closed and his lips bright, twisting beneath Ryan and looking for his thrusts with his whole body. “I want to come in your mouth.”

Ryan swallows and murmurs Brendon’s name like a prayer between moans and swears, keeping his eyes open and losing the rhythm a little when he starts to feel the orgasm growing inside him, tensing his muscles and making him tighten his hold until his knuckles are white, speeding up until he feels he won’t be able to keep going if he thinks about it. His eyes close a little and his mouth opens seconds before he feels it running through his body like an electricity shock that makes him pulse where he’s emptying himself inside Brendon, moaning long and loud as the orgasm makes him tremble and gasp and twist on top of Brendon, pushing in so he gets deeper, pressing against him until his muscles seem to melt and he is spent.

Brendon moans like he’s the one coming, tensing his whole body and squeezing Ryan inside him, tightening the hold with his arms and looking for his mouth to bite him eagerly, pulling at his bottom lip and touching with his tongue where he leaves marks. The only sound in the room is their ragged breathes for a moment, the atmosphere dense and charged, and the smell of sex around them. Brendon caresses Ryan’s back, sliding his fingers over the sweat, tangling them through his hair and sticking out his tongue so he can touch Ryan’s lips with the tip, because if they kiss now they’ll die of lack of oxygen.

Ryan groans exhausted and lets his head fall against Brendon, resting it over his shoulder and letting a trail of kisses on his jaw. He just waits a few seconds before he starts to slide down Brendon’s body without drawing away from him, slipping against his skin. He slides out of him because of the movement and runs his mouth over Brendon’s chest as he goes down, breathing, taking Brendon’s sweat with his tongue and lips with his eyes closed, as if he were worshiping his body.

This time he doesn’t beat about the bush and, as he gets to Brendon’s cock, he takes it into his mouth, opening up all he can and going down until he can feel it at the back of his throat, breathing through his nose and focusing on staying there for a moment before he starts moving, hollowing his cheeks, licking him and savoring him like he was the best thing he had ever tasted. Brendon gasps uneven and his whole body arch like he was about to levitate, looking at Ryan as if he were the mirage of an oasis in the middle of the desert, touching his cheeks with the tip of his fingers.

“Easy. Easy, Ry, I’m…” The sentence ends up with a chill that makes his skin stand up on end, and Brendon moves his hips softly, just a couple of times, sliding in and out of Ryan’s mouth, letting his lips touch his skin and stopping. “You. Do it yourself. Make me… _Ryan_.”

Ryan couldn’t not obey even if he tried, his body moving on its own following Brendon’s voice. He brings one of his hands to the base of Brendon’s cock to hold him there as he runs his lips over his whole length, breathing damp against the wet and burning skin, using his other hand to caress him lower. Ryan opens his mouth again and closes it around the head of his cock, sliding down, down slowly and tightening his lips as he does, moaning like he’s enjoying it as much as Brendon, or even more.

Brendon’s moans are constant and languid, lost, without force to get out of his mouth but sliding through his lips anyway, soft and long, the same way his body waves and his hips roll, looking for more of Ryan’s tongue. He opens his legs more and it’s like his body didn’t know what to do with himself, like he was trying to get out of his own skin, rip himself apart.

“Your fingers,” Brendon asks, his voice shaky as his movements turn less soft, sharper. “Put them inside me. I want them inside. I need them,” he moans, looking at Ryan with his eyes half closed, like he was daydreaming.

Ryan brings his hand down and get his fingers back inside Brendon, taking advantage of drawing apart from him to breathe and slide down with his mouth too, stroking with his other hand enough to give him pleasure but not to make him come. He slides his nose and lips lower, until he reaches his own fingers, getting his tongue out to lick around them, leaving kisses right there and pushing in with his tongue over and over again. Brendon moans sharp and loud, tensing suddenly and moving his hands quickly to hold on the couch, losing the rhythm he had recovered on his breathing.

“Oh, fuck. Jesus fuck, _Ryan_ ,” he moans, and his legs tremble again, his cock twitching softly. Ryan feels it and pushes in with his tongue a little more for a few seconds before he moves and goes back to his dick as he speeds up with his fingers, bending them, touching Brendon right where he knows he’s going to make him melt, wrapping him with his lips one more time and tightening them around his length, moving to make him come. Brendon doesn’t take long before he’s starting to shake all over, and his moans intensify as Ryan feels his cock pulsing against his tongue. “Ryan, I’m gonna…” It’s the only warning he receives before Brendon’s taste fills his mouth, exploding against his tongue while Brendon’s body twist beneath his hands like someone was taking his life out of him.

Ryan uses the hand he had around Brendon to keep his hips still, groaning and savoring him, not taking his mouth away from him until he can’t control Brendon’s shakes, letting him go with a wet sound and licking his lips as he breathes hard and looks at him totally fascinated, as if seeing him lose his mind like this was the best thing he’s seen in his whole life, which, probably, is.

“I could keep eating you the whole day,” he says with his voice raw, crawling over Brendon’s body and letting his own fall down on top of him, resting his head on the couch next to Brendon’s and sighing satisfied.

Brendon snuggles with him right away, their skins sliding against each other because of the fluids gathered over them, touching Ryan’s nose with his own and kissing him softly on the chin, then on the lips, and once more before he draws back.

“I love you. You don’t know… My God…” he murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut and being totally limp next to Ryan. “I think. I think I’m gonna die.”

Ryan laughs softly and pushes Brendon’s air away from his forehead where it sticks, dropping a kiss there and leaning his own against it after, breathing with Brendon in the small space between them.

“I love you too,” he answers in a whisper, closing his eyes and trying to make his body go back to normal, if it can. “And Erikson sure as hell doesn’t know how to do this, so…” he adds after a moment of silence, laughing with his eyes still closed.

“Who?” Brendon asks, getting closer to his face and smiling against the skin, getting one of his legs between Ryan’s and sighing soft. “I wish I wouldn’t have to go,” he whispers, caressing softly Ryan’s forearm with the tip of his fingers.

“Don’t,” Ryan whispers back, wrapping him with his arm around his waist and holding him close to second his own words, opening his eyes barely to look at him. “Stay here today. With me. You can go home tomorrow.”

Brendon tilts his head, getting comfortable and opening his eyes to look at Ryan, staying like that for a few seconds, just watching him, before he nods slowly, twisting his lips.

“I don’t know what you’ve done with me, how you’ve done it…” he says, shaking his head and sighing again, closing his eyes once more to hide his face on Ryan’s neck. “You got me really bad, uh?” he says, softening his tone and letting out a small laugh.

“Hey, I’m not the one who walks around making people who never stayed two nights in a row with the same person fall in love with him,” Ryan answers, dropping a soft kiss where his lips first touch. “I think it’s fair to say the real question here is what have you done to me.” He laughs, sighing then and staying silent for a few seconds before he talks again, lowering his voice and more serious. “The truth is I don’t care… whatever it is, I’m glad you did it.”

 

*

 

A drop of sweat slides down his temple and Ryan makes a quick move to wipe it with the fabric of the shirt covering his arm, getting rid of the tickle sensation following it as it slid down his face. He takes his eyes back to the rink, and runs his tongue over his mouth guard, an old habit he always repeats when he’s tense. And he has reasons to be tense, mostly because there are only three minutes left for the second period to end and the Hounds are still losing, but even more because they’re not just in disadvantage on the scoreboard, but also on the game. Spencer threatened them with dismembering them all if they lose and he can’t propose to Linda, and that’s not helping to light the mood, either.

Blake is in the penalty box for five minutes because of charging, and Ryan has to defend twice as hard because of it. Also, they’re losing chances of attack because the centre is skating back to the defensive zone to help Ryan and they can’t deepen the game that way. Their goal until Blake goes back to the ice is keeping the rival out of their attack zone and Ryan is having a hard time to get it.

Saying it’s being an aggressive match is a misunderstanding. The mood is tense and on edge, the adrenaline full up, there are angry people and shouts everywhere. Ryan would be surprised if Bob wouldn’t lose his voice today. His side hurts probably because he’ll have a huge bruise after a bodycheck against the board, and some players almost fight more than once. It’s not like it matters, you can do that in hockey, but the Hounds have more important things to do than wasting their time fighting, and Bob was very clear about that in the last break after a temperamental outburst of Aaron.

They hold them back as much as they can the three minutes until the end of the half, preventing the opposite team to score a couple of times, and all of them gather around Bob with serious faces and focused, but not defeated. Two goals are nothing, no more than two practiced plays, and that’s what Bob tells them, looking mostly at Spencer, who nods and starts explaining the strategy they’re going to follow the next period. Blake still has to stay in the box for a minute but they’re going to take advantage of it and attack with full force, blocking the rival from the middle of the rink. That way, Spencer says as he looks right at him, Ryan will be closer to the center and the wingers to pass the puck and have more chances of scoring. Ryan will have to pay attention in order to defend from that position at the same time he tries to pass the puck to Spencer.

It’s not something hard to do, but the Hounds are known for their ease to have powerplay and they’re not used to play shorthanded. Anyway, they still manage to keep the puck during the start of the period and, with a fast and harsh movement of the stick, Ryan dodges the rival just enough to pass the puck to Derek, feinting to skate closer to the goal and passing by Spencer on his way so fast the defenseman following him crashes with Spencer, but falls on the ice. The puck goes back to Ryan’s stick and he waits just two seconds for Spencer to go to his position before he passes the puck to him, right before the defenseman charges against him and makes him fall to the ice hard.

Luckily, he has already passed the puck and the defenseman it’s penalized almost at the same time Blake goes back to the rink, reversing the advantage and getting the Hounds on powerplay. Ryan is still on the floor when he hears the racket coming from the people celebrating and he shouts as he starts skating again when he sees the scoreboard adding one point to the Hounds, letting them just one away from evening the score. Spencer hits their heads together when he skates close to him and the rest of the guys gather around them and shout, making the adrenaline rush.

That’s what makes them keep playing harder during the rest of the period and, when they get to the next and last break, the scoreboard is even and the rival starts to decline. Ryan can hear the screams and support from the public and Bob gives them the last motivation words for the period left, assuring them they’re gonna win this match, shouting them to go out there and show which team is the fucking best in the whole NHL.

When the horn sounds and they go back to the rink, Ryan skates close to Spencer with a determinate gaze, hitting their heads together and looking at him right in the eyes as he orders him to do this for Linda. He goes back to his position, adjusting the mouth guard with his tongue, and his gaze moves for a moment to look where he knows Brendon is, breathing deep and looking back at the ice, letting the air out right before they start playing again.

The last period seems endless and, at the same time, passes by like a flash. The first ten minutes are a constant change of game, first the Hounds almost scoring and the rival answering with a counterattack that Ryan stops when they get to the limit of the defense zone. In that same change of game they get the puck and start to attack, and Spencer scores once more, the whole team celebrating at the center of the rink and shouting to one another.

When there are five minutes left to the end, the opponent almost scores and even the match, but Jeff stops the puck inches away from the goal and Ryan appears next to him fast, stopping just to get the stick and get the puck before the winger, skating over the back of the goal with it and looking for Aaron with his eyes as he zigzags and moves the stick fast. He passes the puck when he sees the gab, and Aaron skates down the sideline quickly, getting to the attack zone but losing the puck when the defenseman bodychecks him.

Spencer appears out of the blue and takes the puck again, skating and fighting with another defenseman to prevent him from taking the puck from him, looking up a couple of times until he sees Ryan get rid of the winger, passing the puck to him then. Ryan thinks about shooting, he knows he can score if he hits the puck strong enough, however he looks up again and hears Spencer calling his name and he knows what it means. He’s not calling him to shoot.

When the defenseman gets his stick right in front of Ryan’s, he turns around and passes the puck back to Spencer, skating away and taking with him the defenseman to give him space to shot. The hit echoes in the rink and goes straight into the net between the goalie’s legs, making the people scream so loud the stadium trembles.

With two goals more than their opponents and one minute left to the end of the match, the mood in the stadium gets festive and the players try to keep focused and not get carried away by the euphoria. One minute and they’ll win, one minute and they’ll pass to semifinals. They get a defensive game that becomes a little offensive when the rival acts defeated, but in a minute there’s not much to do and, with the people screaming the countdown, the chronometer gets to zero a bit later, and the horn sounds signaling the end of the match.

Everything becomes blurry, then, Ryan’s senses so bloated they mix with one another, hearing how the whole team crashes in a hug, tasting the victory shouts, feeling every horn in his skin, the music, the voices congratulating them and announcing the pass to semifinals. He doesn’t know how he gets out of the rink because his body belongs to the mass of people moving all at once, and he doesn’t feel he’s out until his skates stop working and the blade doesn’t slide anymore.

There are cameras everywhere, the congratulations mixing and sounding blurred because of all the voices. Brendon crashes against him because of the speed he was running with, hugging him hard and making Ryan feel his finger digging in the flesh despite the layers of clothing, drawing back as he says over and over again: “you got it! You got it!” It seems like it’s hard for him to get away from Ryan and he only let him go when he grabs another player, still looking at Ryan as he starts to hug everyone, taking his eyes off him when he can’t keep looking without breaking his neck.

They bombard them with a million questions Ryan barely hears, and he knows they’re not going to let them go into the locker room until they don’t have something to tell. Bob is answering at the same time he opens his arms so he can protect them somehow, as if he was more a bodyguard than a coach. It’s the paternal instinct, he’d said one time. Maybe it is. He says enough for them to be satisfied and remind them they have the press conference in a few minutes.

Ryan stops paying attention when he sees Spencer taking off the helmet and throwing it aside the moment he sees Linda. He doesn’t know who runs faster towards the other, and all the cameras turn towards them when Spencer lifts her up in a hug and they kiss like it was a Hollywood scene. Spencer has his cheeks flushed when he lets her go, keeping his hands on her waist just a little more before he takes them off so he can start getting rid of the things. It’s then when Ryan sees it, the subtle difference between the sweat drops over his friend’s face and the tears of absolute happiness. Because of the match, maybe, because the semifinals, or because of Linda, because of them.

He gets even redder when he kneels down on the ice and Linda’s eyes get huge as she brings her hands to her mouth and a surprise murmur grow around the stadium. Spencer has to fight to get the ring out of where he had placed it, because he made sure it was impossible losing it during the game. That only gives the press time to comment, talk to the cameras, celebrate, saying the clichéd sentences right on time. Linda cries before Spencer finishes his small speech, not too long, because it’s Spencer, but absolutely intense, because it’s Spencer. The guys cheer when Spencer puts the ring on Linda’s finger with shaky hands after she says of course she wants to share the rest of her life with him, and some people even cry a little, like Brendon, who’s looking at the couple like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his whole life.

Bob gets everything in order again when the press runs over them the moment it ends, and security follows him after Bob calls them with a gesture, making them go easily to the locker room finally. Ryan loses Spencer, who stays with Linda all he can, hugging her, kissing her, touching her and looking at her like she was the only person over the earth right now.

The sensations mix inside Ryan but, among every one of them, he can feel clearly something he didn’t expect to find in a situation like this one. Maybe, if he had thought about it before, it wouldn’t have been so surprising, but it’s not until that moment when he sees Spencer and Linda kissing in the middle of the rink with tears in their eyes and smiles on their mouths that he realizes what’s happening. He realizes the estrange sensation inside his guts, leaving a bitter taste in his throat, is envy. And not envy because they have something he couldn’t have, as in a possession, but because they can do something he will never be able to.

The moment he can’t see Spencer anymore, his whole body moves on automatic to look for the only thing he can think about right now, the reason he’s feeling like this. Brendon is there, among the rest of the people, talking to Patrick, as he looks at Ryan form time to time to time to time, like he was just making sure he’s still there. Ryan looks at him for a while, the impulse of getting closer to him making him take a step toward Brendon.

Tom gets in his way to shout a “we’re in semifinals” that echoes in Ryan’s ears, resting his hands on his shoulders and jumping in front of him until Ryan is laughing, and letting himself go again. Blake and Aaron join them and they end up jumping all together, chanting until Bob tells them to go to the showers already, shouting at them but smiling anyway.

Inside, the party keeps going on and the towels and even some underwear fly over them. The racket becomes deafening when Spencer appears at the door and everyone starts to cheer and congratulate him and mock him at the same time. All of the guys want to hug him but the first reaching him is Ryan, smiling big at his friend and hugging him hard and whispering his congratulation directly at Spencer’s ear.

Spencer seems lost in a parallel world and he walks with a dumb smile on his lips, moving slowly as the guys cheer him, hug him and push him at the same time, some of them thinking already about the bachelor party. Ryan steps aside from the group and looks at his best friend with a smile, pushing his damp from the shower hair off his face and watching how they start jumping again, now around Spencer. He bites his lip when an idea crosses his mind and he steps closer, calling Blake and asking him if he mind he going first to the physio.

Blake, as Ryan expected, doesn’t listen to him so much and nods, saying he has to shower first and everything, so he can go. Ryan doesn’t ask twice and, as soon as he finishes talking, he gets out of the room turning around and almost running, crossing the corridor and opening the office door without knocking.

Brendon is standing there, getting ready the machine he’s going to need and leaning over it with a focused gesture. Ryan closes the door behind him careful not to slam it because of the euphoria and walks towards him with a huge smile and the need of kissing him tingling on his fingers.

 

*

 

Ryan is captivated by the soft trembling candle barely illuminating the table where now the dessert dishes are the only thing left. Brendon gets him out of his absorption snapping his fingers in front of his face and laughing, telling him something about losing him for a moment. He can’t understand him, almost like he knew he is talking because he’s moving his mouth but he couldn’t really hear his voice. What he does hear is the murmur around them, the soft glass tingle and cutlery sounds, the intimate and relaxed atmosphere of the restaurant where they’re having dinner.

He last a few minutes before he realizes he’s dreaming, as the dream Ryan shakes his head and apologizes to Brendon, who’s looking at him fondly. They’re sitting in a leather sofa, closer than it could be seen as friendly. Ryan has his arm over the back of the seat and Brendon’s shoulders and Brendon rests his hand softly on his thigh, playing down his lapse and going back to talking animatedly.

He’s seeing the scene from the outside, like he were a narrator, but feeling everything the Ryan sitting on the couch is feeling, the one that now has eyes only for Brendon, relaxed and calm. The restaurant seems to be full of people and the tables are close enough to one another so people can know who’s eating next to them, but it doesn’t seem to matter much right now.

Brendon laughs again, making Ryan look at them, and he hears it clearly, the way it vibrates in his throat and the happiness in the sound. Ryan finds himself smiling, almost as much as the Ryan sitting on the couch with Brendon, and the smiles freezes on his face and turns into a gesture when he sees him leaning in and kiss Ryan softly, kiss him slowly, almost a careful caress.

He watches them without doing anything, his eyes opening wide and his heart speeding up. He looks around, looking for the reaction that must happen any moment now, waiting for the moment someone realizes what they’re doing, who he is. The Ryan on the table seems focused on the kiss, relaxed, enjoying the moment, and he can’t understand. He doesn’t understand. Until the seconds go by, Brendon pulls back with a smile so bright it shines and everything goes as usual, as if anything had happened.

No one looks at them or says anything about what they just did. The world keeps spinning and chaos only grew in Ryan’s head. They, sitting on the table where the candle is consuming, keep on with their night as if that gentle touch in public was something they can do. No fears and no consequences, just something they can and want to do.

Ryan feels his heart go back to its normal pace but his eyes don’t lose the surprised expression and just then he realizes that there, in that dream world so similar to reality, they can live without hiding and go out without keeping a distance between them. They can be like any other couple going out for dinner. No restrictions.

As the scene gets blurred bit by bit and Ryan notices he’s waking up, something really heavy and dense grown in his guts, a mix between nostalgia, frustration and an anxious feeling that makes it hard to breath. When he opens his eyes, the room ceiling replaces the scene in the restaurant and the heavy feeling stays there inside him, putting a bitter taste in his mouth and the feeling of the dream not being nice at all, despite it totally was.

Ryan sits up on the bed and rubs his head as he thinks about it over and over again, stuck in the ease they had to just being there. The peace with which they could share that moment without being alert all the time. It makes him want that freedom, that thing everyone can have without it being a big deal. The fact that the bed is empty and cold next to him doesn’t help him to feel better, Brendon’s absence making his bed almost a strange place, bigger than it should be and definitely sadder.

He’s having that feeling more and more lately, feeling something is missing every time he wakes up alone in bed, as if during the dream he had lost something important. The nights are more restless too, he moves more, looking for something that isn’t there, wrinkling the sheets and moving the pillows everywhere. He usually wakes up earlier too, and less rested.

Also, these last weeks Ryan has found himself thinking about his relationship with Brendon more often. The high point has been the dream, but it’s not the first time he thinks how unfair it is for them to not be able to share all those things everyone does in public. Not to hide to be with him, not to wait for them to be alone so he can hug him, or to avoid looking at him for too long so no one can suspect. It’s starting to be exhausting, not because the effort it takes but because Ryan wants to do it. Sometimes he feels the impulse of holding his hand when they’re walking down the street, or kiss him after a match, or celebrate a victory with a hug which doesn’t have to last just a friendly amount of time.

Ryan wants to be able to do those things without them being such a shock to his world, he wants what he feels for Brendon not to rule his future in hockey. Sometimes he thinks about what would happen if he did it, if he told. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal and it wouldn’t impede his career in the NHL. He has even thought about telling Bob, see his reaction and ask for his support to make sure he still can play in the Hounds even though he makes it public. He didn’t tell, but he can’t help but realize it’s not about being afraid anymore.

The truth is it’s not something he has talked about with Brendon, and he doesn’t know what he thinks about it but Ryan knows some days, as he watches Brendon in his house or hears him singing in the shower, he wonders if it wouldn’t be something he’d be willing to risk. He hasn’t found an answer yet, but he’s thinking about it and that’s much more than he ever thought he’d have.

He’s still lost in thoughts when he hears the dogs agitate barely seconds before the door sounds with the characteristic knocking that only belongs to one person. He doesn’t change his clothes and opens the door in his pajamas, letting the dogs get between his legs right after does. They look for Brendon wiggling their tails like crazy and barking until Brendon bends down and greets them, petting their fur.

“You weren’t sleeping, right? I sent you a message telling you I was coming but you didn’t answer. I hope I didn’t interrupt something important, but look,” Brendon says when he straightens up, smiling huge and raising up a folder full of papers. “Good news, Ry. I wanted to see them together, if you want to. There are a lot of things to think about and chose, I could use some help. You want to?” He asks, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. “And coffee. Or lime blossom tea. Yeah, that would be nice.”

Ryan laughs and rubs his face, frowning a little, still with the smile on his face and closing the door, starting to walk to the living room with Brendon.

“What’s that?” he asks looking at the folder, going to the kitchen to make coffee for him, lime blossom tea for Brendon. He’s still a little sleepy and his steps are slow and dragged, like all of his movements.

“Several things,” Brendon answers moving with him and taking the things off his hands, hitting his hips softly and starting to make the coffee himself. “First, my title, résumé and the ‘internship’ with you guys,” he says, leaving the coffee maker on and going to the kitchen isle where he left the folder, opening it. “And I have companies programs, clubs and other positions I’m considering. I’m about to finish with the team, Cassie is already arranging everything to come back, so it’s better to be prepared,” he explains, twisting his lips. “And then, I have a few apartments I’ve been looking at. With what I have saved, I can pay for the first month and when I start working everything will be fine. If I could stay with the team here but in another league it would be awesome because the health insurance is very complete, but well…” Brendon shrugs, sighing. “It’s going to be a bummer if I work far away because we won’t be able to see each other a lot… I cross my fingers. Anyway, I didn’t look outside Chicago or anything.”

Ryan nods, sitting in one of the stools and resting his elbows on the isle counter with his eyes fixed on the papers, blinking and swallowing. His mind is still a little stuck on everything he was thinking after the dream and before Brendon came, so he processes the information slower than usual.

“Where have you been looking?” he asks, clearing his throat because his voice comes out a bit rough, and looking through Brendon’s papers.

“I got every club operating right now in the city. _All of them_ ,” he says, emphasizing the words and laughing. “There are not as many as one could think. Then, there are college teams too, that wouldn’t be bad, and I didn’t look all of the companies because the ones I have here are the recommendations they gave us in the Master’s. The ones that are associated with small teams and all that, you know?”

“I see,” Ryan says, still looking at the papers but not watching them. “And the apartments?”

“Well, I’ve taken a look around the area I’m living now, and a little to the north. The problem is I can’t spend everything on the first month because I don’t know how the medical coverage is going to be in my new job or when I’m going to sign a contract, so there are prizes I can afford in theory, but just later on because I can’t risk it. I tried not to look too far from here, but… _The Loop_ ,” he says sarcastic, shooting him a dirty look and laughing then. “Anyway, I’m sure I can get a car when I’m a little more stable, and it won’t seem we’re so far.”

Ryan nods again, thoughtful, letting the papers aside and resting his head in one hand, looking at Brendon. He’d be lying if he said he haven’t thought before about the possibility of Brendon not having to look for an apartment, but now that it gets more real, closer in time, he starts to consider the possibilities.

The idea makes his throat close; he doesn’t know why because it’s not like they didn’t spend together most of time. At work and at home. Brendon only leaves at night and some nights not even that, so it wouldn’t be such a change from what they’re doing now and they could see each other more if Brendon’s job was far away. Also, that way their relationship would be more normal. Maybe that way Ryan wouldn’t feel like he was constantly hiding.

“I was thinking,” he says after a while silent, clearing his throat and fixing his eyes on the papers again just so he doesn’t have to look at Brendon. He frowns as his words organize inside his head, and licks his lips. Brendon makes a sound with his throat, letting him know he’s listening before he stands up and goes to get the coffee, looking at Ryan as he pours it in two mugs, “maybe you could, um, I don’t know. Maybe… It would be nice if, you know, you could, like. You could live here, too. With me,” he specifies, as if there would be another way to live there. There is, actually, Brendon could live downstairs and they wouldn’t have to see each other if they didn’t want to, but that’s not what Ryan meant and it wasn’t necessary to say it, anyway. “If you want, of course,” he adds quickly, feeling his cheeks heating up and clearing his throat again as he pulls on his sideburn hair. Brendon stares at him from his seat, his hands around the mug.

“You mean… like a roommate or…?” he asks with hesitation, pulling on his lip with his teeth before he takes a sip from his mug, slowly.

“With me,” Ryan repeats like a broken record, swallowing and looking at Brendon with his cheeks still red, biting the inside of his mouth. “You’re here all the time, anyway, even some nights. And that way we could see each other even though you work far away,” he explains, trying to speak so the room doesn’t get silent. His hands are sweating. Ryan didn’t think this was going to make him so nervous.

“You want me to live with you?” Brendon asks softly and incredulous, looking down at his mug when a shy smile spreads on his face and he blushes. He moves his head and it almost seems a nod but Ryan doesn’t really know. Brendon makes a gesture with his shoulders and then twists his lips, as if he has lost all capacity of being able to react with his body. “It’s… yeah. Yes, of course I. I do. I mean, living with you. Yes,” he answers, nodding more clearly this time and looking at Ryan. “I want to.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks, a smile opening wide on his face, looking at Brendon fondly, nodding too. “Awesome. That’s,” he laughs incredulous, he doesn’t know if it is because of the answer or because he can’t believe he offered in the first place, given that it’s him who they’re talking about. “I know we’ve been together for not too long, and sometimes it can be complicated, but whenever you hate me you can move to the basement and give me the cold shoulder until it wears off. And I could sleep in one guest room instead of the couch.”

Brendon moves fast and Ryan just finished talking when two hands grab his face and pull him in with a laugh. Brendon kisses him still laughing against his lips and touching him with a bitter coffee taste on his tongue that he manages to sweeten up with the way he kisses him softly. Brendon puts his arms around Ryan’s neck before he breaks the kiss, looking at him with huge eyes and trying to repress one of those smiles that hurt on your cheeks. He shakes his head, sighing a little and almost hanging himself from Ryan’s neck, sitting on his lap.

“I’m not gonna cold-shoulder you, and I’m not gonna hate you,” he says, making a resigned face as if it was something inevitable, something he can’t control. “But I may scream at you and cry. I cry a lot. But it wears off fast and I don’t mind apologizing if I’m wrong. Also, make up sex is going to be great,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and letting out a laugh then. He looks at Ryan as if he was evaluating the best decision he has ever made in his whole life.

Ryan laughs too, tightening his hold where he has wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist, nodding and making a mental note about what Brendon said.

“Good, it’s nice knowing these things so I don’t freak out when it happens,” he says, biting his lip and looking at Brendon a bit embarrassed. “You’re going to need having patience with me, I’m not used to this. And sex is always great, by the way.”

“Oh, I know,” Brendon nods proudly, laughing more and moving his legs on the air. “And just so you know, I don’t have patience; I don’t know what that is. But I think, seeing how this is going so far… it doesn’t seem we’re going to be that bad at it, right?”

Ryan laughs and nods, leaning in again to kiss him soft and short, reaching out with his hand then to start moving papers away without really looking.

“So you don’t need these anymore, you already have a house. You like it, it has a piano, dogs, a good mattress, a study I never use and you can hog, and a whirlpool bath,” he smiles. Brendon nods with a little laugh, swallowing hard and tightening his jaw for a moment. He shakes his head when he lets out another breathy laugh, bringing one hand to his face and rubbing one of his eyes roughly.

“Thank you,” he says with a weird voice, frowning and laughing more, looking down. “Seriously, you don’t know… Thank you.”

“Hey, come on,” Ryan answers, lifting Brendon’s face with a hand on his chin and smiling at him as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me anything. This is already your home, anyway.”

“Oh, _please_ , shut up.” Brendon laughs, shaking his head no and looking at him for a second with bright eyes before he kisses him, squeezing his lips together. “Shh. No more words. Don’t say anything else. Let me keep my dignity.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ryan says between laughs and kisses. “You didn’t explain it to me the other day. Also, it’s the truth. My dogs already love you more than me,” he adds with a whining tone, still laughing. “Except Zep, you can’t steal Zeppelin’s love from me, he’s too loyal.”

“Give me three months,” Brendon answers, bursting out laughing before he hugs Ryan tight, squeezing him with his arms as if he wanted to fuse him with his own body, smiling when he draws back. “I love you. A lot, really. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love you too, idiot,” Ryan says, kissing him on the cheek and looking at the papers again, letting one arm around Brendon and using his other hand to push aside the ones related to apartments, this time paying attention. “Okay, so we only have to look for jobs. When are you moving in?” he laughs, still looking at the papers.

 

*

 

The following weeks pass by as if Ryan was living in a movie. The changes build up and the sensations of euphoria, happiness, and this exciting feeling seem too much to be real. Brendon is more than settled at home and it’s like he’s been living there since forever, and that apparently is like an energy injection to Ryan, who’s playing like never before, making everyone talk about him, the press waiting for the next match just so they can see him play and talk about the game.

They get at the last game of semifinals tied with the rival, and everything will resolve in the last match. Ryan almost can’t believe it when the end of the game echoes in the stadium and they get to the last playoffs round before the Stanley Cup. It’s like he’s living a dream and every day he wakes up with the fear of failing now, of not reaching his goal and being left wanting more. The team is better than ever, motivated and ready for anything they have to do to take that cup home, and every one of them is working one hundred percent for it.

The three first games of the final round end up with the Hounds winning, and they get to the fourth match with their skin tingling and so nervous they feel like they’re going to explode. If they win that one, they’ll be classified to the Stanley Cup with no need to play the three games left. The rival doesn’t make it easy and during the first two periods of the match they are winning even though the team is giving all they have, but the puck doesn’t seem willing to get into the net. However, during the last period everything seems to change and the Hounds even the game before the end. Spencer is the one who makes them conference champions during the sudden death with a goal just a minute before the overtime ends.

Ryan has vague memories about everything after the match ended, he only knows he crashed against his friend in a hug because he made it, he was making Ryan’s dream come true, thanks to him they would play the Stanley Cup. Just a few days later they would know who would be their opponent in the final, the other conference champion, but they were too excited to think about that during the hours they were celebrating after the game.

For moments, Ryan feels like this isn’t happening to him, as if it wasn’t his life and he wasn’t just a round away from getting the cup he has dreamt about since that time he saw a final when he was eight. He even made a personalized cup with cardboard and paper the next day. Sometimes, while he’s lying on the couch with Brendon watching TV, or walking the dogs as any other day, he has little lapses of reality and his heart speeds up, feeling the rush of adrenaline.

They lose the first two games just a goal away from even the scoreboard, but the team doesn’t give up and Ryan refuses to surrender when there are still five games more to play. There’s nothing decided yet, these are just two matches. With that in mind, they even the round winning the next two games, and everyone is already talking about how this is the tighter final they’ve seen in a few years; everything could happen. The Hounds get ahead in the fifth match and, with just two more until the end, they have two options: winning the sixth and become champions or playing everything on the last game.

The day before the match Ryan walks around home with too much energy, practicing the deep breathing Elisa recommended and trying to stay calm even though an anxious feeling twists inside his guts. On top of that, they’re playing this one home and it’s sold out since weeks ago, everyone expectant, waiting for tomorrow, for the Hounds to win and the cup to stay in their stadium. He spent the whole morning talking about strategies with Spencer on the phone until both of them decided it was better to let it go and relax a little, being focused the few hours they have left before the match.

Even his father called him to wish him luck and told him he would be watching the game from home, which didn’t helped a lot to reduce his nerves, given that he didn’t talk to him since the last time he went to Vegas and dropped by to see him. Not that it was different from the rest of the time, talking so little, but the hockey always was the connection point between him and his father and this final seemed to be the only thing that could give them something to talk about for a while, something for his father to feel proud of him.

When the alarm goes off the next morning, Ryan is been already awake for a while and he turns it off quickly so it doesn’t disrupt the silence and peace at home, so different from the nerves gathering inside him. Brendon doesn’t last long before moving on the bed, letting him know without words he’s already awake, too, saying good morning a few minutes later.

The routine is not so different from the rest of the days, but it’s not like any other day. Ryan feels it in how tense his muscles are, in the way he has to make an effort to keep focused, in how he breathes in and out slowly not to lose control. The game starts at seven p.m. and Bob wants them there in the morning, so it’s nine o’clock when they go to the stadium, the team sweats on and the bag hanging over his shoulder.

The atmosphere is tense in the stadium; the players go on with their routines between the gym, library and all that. Ryan stays as much as he can with Brendon, who, strangely enough, calms him, but he ends up going to the gym too and staying relaxed while listening to music. It’s not until they’ve had lunch he meets with Spencer to talk about strategies and games.

They are so engrossed on it they don’t notice the door opening and someone walking into the room. Ryan just looks up when a familiar laugh reaches his ears and he sees Brendon still half out of the room, sticking his head out and saying ‘they’re in here, I found them’, walking in again and saying hi waving his hand.

“Hey! I thought you run away, we didn’t find you anywhere,” Brendon says, smiling big and not waiting for an answer before he talks again. “Look who came to see you guys win the Stanley Cup.” He turns around the door with his hands in his pockets and, just a few seconds later, the first thing they see is a hairy head and huge eyes with a pacifier that almost covers the rest of the face. Ryan recognize the little girl before seeing who is carrying her is her mother, looking at them with a smile and making a gesture with his head because she can’t do it with her hands.

“Cassie!” Spencer greets, standing up with a smile and walking towards the woman. “God, you changed a lot. How long it’s been?”

“Almost a year already,” the woman answers, looking at the baby as if she couldn’t believe it’s been that long. “Congratulations, by the way. Congratulate Linda too. I saw everything on television, it was amazing.

“Thank you. I would have done it today if I would have known we would be here,” Spencer jokes, “but you never know with Ryan, right?” he adds, elbowing Ryan softly.

Ryan makes a gesture with his face towards his friend and looks at Cassie, smiling small and waving his hand as a hello, feeling a little awkward because he can’t help thinking about the last time they talked and what happened. He didn’t talk wto her after that party and, now that Ryan is totally sure and used to the way he feels about Brendon, he almost feels more embarrassment than anything because of the way he reacted that day.

“How are you?” he asks, just to say something, looking at the little girl and smiling softly. “I don’t know if there are skates that small, but you know she’s gonna have ones the moment she can stand.”

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re saying.” The girl laughs, letting the little bug on the floor and just holding her arms, looking at the guys so proud when Joanna starts to take little steps. “See? Told you. She’s gonna replace you,” she jokes before she takes the little girl up in her arms again. “I’m fine, we’re fine, thank you. I’m glad to see you’re good too, totally recovered from that injury,” she comments, pointing to Ryan’s leg with his head. “You kept us on the edge, especially me. Brendon kept calling me at all times asking this or that, looking for the last advances, making me _translate_ texts…”

“ _Cassie_ ,” Brendon interrupts her with a tight smile, opening his eyes wide and making a gesture with his head. Ryan laughs softly and looks at him shortly, looking back at Cassie then.

“He’s done a great job,” he says, nodding. “I don’t know if I would have played otherwise, so…”

“Brendon is a great professional,” Cassie nods, making Brendon burst an incredulous laugh and shake his head as his cheeks blush. Spencer’s phone rings suddenly and he apologizes when he sees who’s calling, hugging Cassie carefully and touching the little girl cheek, saying he expects to see her again and wishing she enjoys the game. Cassie wishes him luck before he walks out of the room.

“You staying to see the match?” Brendon asks, making a gesture with his arms so Cassie gives the girl to him.

“Yeah, of course. I came with Jon,” she explains, giving the little girl to Brendon, who starts to make faces at her right away. “He didn’t come here because he doesn’t have accreditation and you know how security is today. Anyway, he’s with a friend, Will. Who, by the way…” says the girl, wiggling his eyebrows subtle and looking at Brendon. He seems to recognize the tone of her voice because he looks back at her for a moment. “He’s a pretty nice guy, and very handsome. He studies music, you know? Here. I’ve told him about you, I told him that was your second option and he said he would like to meet you. He plays for your team, so…” She winks at Brendon, laughing a little and making Brendon laugh too.

“I thought that matchmaker thing was over,” Brendon answers, shaking his head.

“I promise this is a good one. Come to the stands later, we’re on the first row, Bob got us tickets. I promise you’re gonna like him,” she says, getting closer and taking the girl back just before she starts trying to escape from Brendon hold. Maternal instinct.

“We’ll see… Are we going? We have to go on with the tour, we still have to see Tom, Alex and Jeff. You know where are they?” Brendon asks Ryan, who has his arms crossed over his chest and a focused gaze, letting it show he has followed the conversation closely even though he didn’t talk.

“I haven’t seen them in a while, but they may be in one of the rooms with a television,” he answers, lifting an eyebrow to Brendon subtly without much intention. It’s not that he minds someone is interested in Brendon. Someone who studies music, who _plays for his team_ , and who, probably, doesn’t have any problem saying it out loud. He doesn’t mind at all. Just, it’s curious. Just that. Nothing more.

“Okay. I see you in a while, then,” Brendon nods, resting his hand on Ryan shoulder and leaning in for a second before he stops and saves the movement turning it into a couple of taps on his shoulder, smiling. “See you later,” he says, and Cassie says goodbye too, wishing him luck. Ryan says goodbye to both of them when they’re almost out of the room, going back where he was sitting with Spencer and getting out his headphones to listen to music. It’s better not to think too much about something stupid, he needs to stay focused right now.

Spencer comes back a few minutes later and they stay there for hours, with some of the guys coming and going from time to time, sharing feelings and thoughts. Bob drops by to tell them to move their ass fifteen minutes before they have to start getting ready and, when they get out of there to go to the locker room. The tension feels in the air, people walking down and up the corridors, talking excited, trying to keep the nerves under control. Spencer walks with him, hitting their shoulders together, elbow to elbow as he always does, not needing to say anything for Ryan to know he’s there with him, the whole team is. In those moments, Ryan begins to cease existing as an individual and every one of them becomes one.

The air is dense as they put their kit on, the guards, preparing the sticks, the paramedics walking and preparing everything. There’s still time before the game and they can already hear the murmurs on the stands, the public, the excited feeling waiting for the match to start. Ryan hears a ‘Ross, I need you for a moment. I have to tell you something’ and he stands up without even thinking about the voice, moving on automatic and professional until he’s out of the locker room, watching almost surprised it’s Brendon who called him.

“Hey, I can’t keep you for long, I know,” he says, pulling on him to get in the room next to them, now empty because the whole team is in the locker room. “But I just want to tell you you’re a great player, you’ve been awesome all the season and you can do this, you can take it home, Ry. I trust you and I love you. And I want to kiss you before you get on the ice.”

Ryan laughs softly and gets his still gloveless hands on Brendon’s cheeks, leaning in to kiss him shortly and then again, taking long this time and sighing on his lips.

“You know I wouldn’t be here without you, right?” he says when he draws back, caressing him with his thumbs and smiling fondly.

“Yes, you would. It wasn’t me, I assure you,” Brendon says, smiling. “But together… we make a good team.”

Ryan nods before kissing him again, pulling on his bottom lip when he pulls back once more, letting go of him when he can’t pull more.

“I love you,” he murmurs, hugging Brendon close, his body too big against Brendon’s because of the kit. Brendon hugs him back hard so Ryan can feel him as much as he can, laughing and nodding, punching him softly on his arm when they draw back.

“Come on. Go back with your team. Get out there and show them all how good you are.”

 

*

 

The sound is deafening when the voice echoes in the stadium announcing the entry of the Chicago Hounds and, as they get out to step on the ice one by one, the lights flash and the rink turns green and black with the spotlight dancing on it, the team logo big and spinning around on the center of the rink. Ryan goes out right after Spencer, skating around the rink and passing by his teammates, the voices and screams of people sounding over the music. The big square screen in the center of the stadium shows pictures of them, certain plays they made in the matches over the season and the number of every one of them with their names.

They get out a while later to go to the bench as the opposite team gets into the ice, sitting down around Bob and listening to him. Bob looks at them closely and nods, his face serious. He already said everything he has to in the locker room but he always reserves his last words to this moment, and today even more, sixty minutes away from getting the title.

“We’re not here because of luck. We’re here because you’re the best players. It’s not me who says it, it’s shown in the numbers, the goals, and the points. It’s said by this public and the press, anxious for a show, by the way all and every one of you gave their hearts to be here today,” Bob stops for a second and Ryan passes his tongue over his mouth guard, pressed against Spencer’s body, feeling somehow calm and confident because he’s right there with him. “I want this stadium to remember this match as the best one of the NHL history, I want the fathers here today to talk to their sons about you, and these ones to their sons. I want that cup to stay at home and for you to have the reward you deserve. To achieve that, you have to play like there’s no tomorrow, like this is the last fucking hockey match you’ll play, as if your existence depended on that cup. You are one, guys. And today, here, is our moment to make history, Hounds!” They all nod as they stand and get in a group hug, joining their heads on the center while, as the tradition marks, Spencer says the words that they all repeat like a war cry, inaudible because of the American anthem resounding proudly in the stadium, but deafening in their own ears and their veins.

The five first team players get into the ice as soon as the hug ends, Spencer first, followed by Jeff, Derek, Aaron, Tom and, finally, Ryan, every one of them skating to their positions in the ice. The referee is already in the center with the puck in his hand, waiting for Spencer and the other center to get to the middle of the rink, facing each other with their wings at each side of them, some feet away, and the defensemen just a few steps at their backs. During a few seconds it’s like the players aren’t breathing, but then the referee drops the puck, the centers get the sticks on it and the match begins.

Spencer gets the possession to the Hounds and he moves the game to the sideline passing the puck to Derek and skating toward the attack zone, but the opposite players are fairly positioned with a perfect covering and the Hounds are forced to go backwards, moving the puck back. Derek makes a long pass to Tom, who keeps the puck as he looks up, looking for the pass. Ryan moves forward and tries to escape from the man covering him, receiving the puck right then and turning fast when the rival gets the stick in to take it from him. They end up against the board because of the movement and they fight for it for a few seconds before Ryan gets the puck again and hits it against the board hard, making it rebound and get to the center of the ice where Aaron takes it and skates fast towards the attack zone again.

During the first minutes of the match, everything is a tug of war from both teams, the game even and the goal occasions just a few. Aaron is the first one to hit the puck toward the goal but the goalie stops it and send the puck straight to his winger’s stick, making his team counterattack. They don’t get to the Hounds’ defensive zone because Tom gets in their way and jams the pass with his stick. Jeff saves the goal a couple of times too, catching the puck with his hand once and making it hit the guards another time, the puck going straight to Ryan’ stick.

He feels his heart pounding fast, the adrenaline running through his veins almost at the same pace he moves on the ice, turning, changing the game, speeding up and stopping harsh. But he stays focused, the same way the rest of his team does, keeping the game at high level, creating occasions, stopping attacks. At the end of the first period, the scoreboard is even and Ryan is soaked in sweat. He’s not frustrated, his team is playing good, they just have to find the gaps.

“Tom, change for Blake,” Bob says as they get to the bench with the rest of the team, tapping the defenseman on the back. “Blake, I want you to be the stay at home, Ryan will skate up to the attack zone. If we have powerplay, I want you to be the quarterback. Don’t let them breath, their weak point is the reaction speed, you’re faster in the changes of game, take advantage of that, annoy them, keep the puck and just go to the goal when they’re confused. They have studied very well our game; they barely leave Spencer and Derek alone. Ryan, confuse them on the line and get the puck in the attack zone as soon as one of them gets away. Aaron, annoy them, try to make them think Ross is going to pass the puck to you, keep them there as much as you can and, as soon as you have a gap, go for it,” Bob explains as they nod, looking at each other. “You’re good, guys, you’re playing very good. Score and right then go back to the previous strategy, they will have to look for evening the match and you’ll have more room then to do our game.”

The players get their helmets off to wipe off the sweat and push their hair back. Ryan gets his hair in a ponytail again before getting the helmet on again, drinking water and not talking with the rest of the guys, focused on the game, visualizing the plays. It’s important to finish the second period winning, or they’ll get nervous on the third period and it will be more difficult to score. Some teams work better under pressure, but the Hounds play for the advantage since the beginning to gain more stability.

They go back to the rink a few minutes later to start the second period. Right when the puck touches the ice, the rival gets it to their side of the rink, making a long pass to their defenseman in the neutral zone. Spencer, Aaron and Derek skate forward aggressively, covering the players to jam the pass. Ryan moves forward with them and Blake stays back and, in the fight between Aaron and the opposite winger, the puck escapes enough for Ryan to get his stick and take it to his zone, skating to the center of the rink, zigzagging and spinning around when the center gets to him.

He tries to keep the puck during the most time, seeing Derek move looking for the gap, Spencer at his left doing the same. Aaron skates in front of him and the player covering him looks up for a second, but Ryan takes advantage of it to dodge him and gets into the attack zone, seeing Spencer has read his mind and has gotten away, passing him the puck in a quick move. Spencer’s shot hit the goalie’s guards but the puck keeps moving and Ryan steals it between the players fighting for it, passing it back to Blake, making them all open and make more room. Blake passes it back to him and Ryan looks for the gap without success, his players skating around, trying to give him space to pass the puck.

When he turns to dodge the rival stick, Ryan sees a gap between the skates and he doesn’t think about it, stepping back a few feet on the ice and moving just enough to get to the right position, turning around to get away from the defenseman and hitting the puck with a loud and hard sound. He sends it right between the players, taking the goalie by surprise, who moves too slow and can’t prevent the puck from going straight to the net.

The public gets mad screaming and the team gathers around him in a hug, tapping each other backs and cheering before they go back to their position to continue with the game. The match stays with the scoreboard one to cero during the most of the second period; Ryan can feel the tension is his whole body, the nerves on his gut. Tom goes back a few later and Bob makes him a gesture from the bench asking if he needs to rest. Ryan doesn’t need it, not for now, he prefers to finish the second period on the ice.

When they’re two minutes away from the end, Spencer scores the second point to the Hounds and the euphoria explodes in the stadium, the guys smiling and containing their own excitement during the celebration of the goal. Ryan can feel they’re grazing it though, he feels it in all and every one of his teammates’ smiles, careful but huge, as if they were containing themselves but they couldn’t help but think the game is already theirs, touching the victory with the tip of their fingers.

Bob encourages them to keep playing like they’re doing it during the break, telling them to play like they were even and that there are still twenty minutes before them. Ryan stays in the bench the first minutes of the third period and watches closely the game from his seat, unable to stay still, moving, biting his lip, jumping when they hit Spencer and the referee doesn’t signal penalty. The nerves don’t let him stay still for more than two seconds and his eyes run over and over again to the central screen where the clock sets the countdown and the scoreboard is still showing their advantage by two goals.

The opposite team’s center scores ten minutes later, making Ryan skin vibrate with the need of being on the rink again. The Hounds have a couple of occasions more, but the puck doesn’t seem to want to get into the net and Bob makes him come back to the ice, telling him to go back to the previous strategy but not to let them pass of the center. “It’s an order, Ross, do whatever you need to”, he says, tapping his shoulder hard.

Ryan says that to Spencer when he goes back to the ice and they give the orders to the rest of the team. The opposite team doesn’t give up and keeps fighting like the beginning, but the Hounds seem to have taken Bob’s words at heart and they play like this is the last match of their life. The opposite winger hits Derek with the stick and they get him out, giving them powerplay during a few minutes. It’s in that moment when they take advantage of it and Ryan moves to be the quarterback, taking the puck and trying to dodge the rival, searching with his eyes, making gestures in Spencer’s direction. He takes advantage of a dodge and passes the puck to Derek, who does the same to Aaron and lets him zigzag and skate in front of the goalie, hitting the puck and getting it between his legs, scoring the third to the Hounds.

The euphoria builds up, not just among the public but around the players too. Ryan feels it in his veins and in the way he can’t stop smiling huge, his heart speeding up and his whole body trembling for being so close. So close. Spencer gives them the last words of encouragement when they hug to celebrate and Ryan looks at him knowingly, nodding, watching the scoreboard for a moment to see there are only three minutes left.

When the puck moves again, the atmosphere is already festive among the public, they are screaming and cheering and clapping. Sometimes he hears them chant Spencer’s name, acclaim the team, clap anytime they steal the puck back or make a dodge. The opposite team has nothing to lose and attack with everything they have, pulling the goalie and adding a player to the equation.

Ryan has to stop an attack from the floor, lying on the ice after a fall, getting the stick in the way and preventing the puck to go to the goal. Blake crashes the center against the board to steal the puck back after losing it. There are the longest minutes of Ryan’s life, full of counterattacks and changes of game, attacks and defense plays. There’s a moment of confusion when they think the puck has gotten into the goal, the rival almost celebrating, but being just a false alarm when they see the puck between Jeff’s leg and the ice, barely inches away from the goal line.

The tension starts to grow in a tangible way, the clock running fast now that there’s less than a minute left. The sound of sticks against ice and against each other is inaudible because of the deafening voices. The puck gets to the neutral zone and Ryan allows himself to look at the clock, breathing hard, the sweat sliding down his face. The cheers mix but they start to be clear as Ryan skates back to face an opponent, stealing the puck from him and turning around to skate over the back of the goal line and the goal, passing the puck to Aaron as the countdown starts.

Five, and Aaron loses the puck in a bodycharge against the board; four, and the rubber stays abandoned in the center of the rink for a moment; three, and Spencer, Derek and three players of the opposite team skate for it; two, and the puck flies to the farthest zone from where Ryan’s covering; one, and the players give up when the puck slides behind the goal, making it impossible for it to come back to the Hounds defense zone.

The horn signals the end of the match and everything explodes in the stadium, the players raise the sticks and arms in victory and the ones in the bench jump between screams that join the public ones. And, still in the defense zone, scratching the ice when he stops after taking off the helmet, Ryan drops the stick and brings his hands to his face. His knees hit the ice hard when he lets himself fall and bursts out crying. All the tension he built up, the whole year’s work, the doubts after the injury and fear of not being able to play, the anxious feeling, everything overflows like a glass too filled up, his chest jerking hard and his tears running down his face freely beneath his hands.

Spencer is the first one who crashes against him when Ryan stands up, hugging him and making him slide back a little because of the impact, followed shortly by Blake, Aaron, Jeff and Derek. The rest of the team doesn’t take long before they’re getting into the ice and joining them, hugging as the cheers and cries of victory in the stadium go on, smiling, some of them hitting their heads together. Ryan releases Spencer to hug Tom, who shouts something to his ear he can’t understand. Bob gets into the rink to join the celebration, hugging Spencer first and then the rest of the team one by one. When he gets to Ryan, he drags the hug on and, when he congratulates him, Ryan knows it’s not just because of the victory, but because his work throughout the season.

He sighs unsteady because the tears keep falling down his face, releasing Bob and moving between the turmoil of people between sobs, hugging Alex, the technical team, all the teammates left. And, as he skates forward, his body wants him to find more and more the only person he hasn’t hugged yet, the person he wants to celebrate this with the most, besides his team, the person he owes this title to. He looks for him with his eyes between the people in the ice, the ones still on the bench and the ones around in the rink watching the celebration from the distance.

Probably it’s the way reality is unfolding and twisting in front of his eyes, confusing his senses, but Ryan is still looking around when a figure appears right in front of him, blocking his vision before crashing hard against him. His scent is the first thing Ryan recognizes, before the way he hugs him like he wants to break all his bones, or how he repeats his name excited, “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan”, over and over again, letting out a “it’s yours, baby, it’s yours, it’s yours” between murmurs.

It’s just seconds, because it’s what a hug between them can last, what is stipulated, and Brendon draws back even though he’s still grabbing his arms, looking at him with one of those smiles that leave your cheeks hurting for hours, squeezing hard over and over again.

“You’re crying,” he says as if he just realized, laughing as he lifts his hand to wipe Ryan’s cheeks roughly, bringing it then to his face because he let out a couple of tears too. Ryan looks at him during a few seconds like he were paralyzed somehow, his chest raising and falling with a deep sigh.

It’s like everything else around him disappeared, the cheers mix up, the cameras cease to exist and the flashes can’t be heard over the voices. Ryan’s ears get some kind of numbness which prevents him from hearing anything as his eyes are still fixed on Brendon, his grip keeping him there on earth, smiling at Ryan so bright he gives more light than the spotlights. And, in that moment, Ryan thinks there’s no other place he’s able to look at, not while Brendon’s there. Because he’s not just the man who made possible for him to play this match, but he also made possible so many things more out of the rink, things Ryan never had thought.

Maybe is that, or maybe is the way his feelings for Brendon fill up his chest and make his guards get tighter. Maybe is the voice in his head telling him that man in front of him is the best thing that ever happened to him, or the other voice begging him to never let him go because Ryan doesn’t know how his life could come back to normal after Brendon. It’s probably the fact that he’s so fucking in love everything else doesn’t matter, that the only thing he can do, the only thing he needs right now, is this.

His movements seem to be in slow motion but his chest raises and fall fast as he moves, taking his gloves off and dropping them to the ice, rubbing his face to wipe the tears still sliding down it and holding Brendon’s, smiling and shaking his head. Brendon looks at him with huge eyes and Ryan feels his cheeks get warm beneath his hands. When he pulls him in, he opens his legs more to dig the blades on the ice so he doesn’t move, and their bodies touch before Ryan leans in and kisses him, his lips trembling against Brendon’s, wet with sweat and tears. His whole body creates a bubble around them so everything he can think about right now is Brendon, the way he needs this as much as water and he’s not gonna stop no matter what.

Brendon shivers in his hands, maybe because they’re cold or maybe because of the same thing that’s making Ryan’s legs tremble, holding on Ryan harder, raising his hands to get them around his neck and tiptoeing, breathing hard in the kiss but not breaking it, whispering a “Ryan” straight into his lips.

“This victory is yours,” Ryan murmurs fast, barely separating from his lips, making the words stumble and his lips touch Brendon’s, his eyes still closed. “It’s yours. I’m here because of you, it’s yours, Bren,” he repeats before he kisses him again, whispering “I love you” but not really knowing if it can be heard, his breathing rougher with every second that goes by.

“I love you,” Brendon repeats, nodding, their foreheads joined and their warm breath mixing between their mouths. “I love you,” he says once again, looking at his eyes sincere and totally open. Ryan nods and lets out a short laugh, more nervous than anything, his eyes filling up again and overflowing while he kisses Brendon again.

Bit by bit, his senses start to recover and function again, and Ryan begins to be aware of everything around him, the music in the stadium, the people still celebrating in the stands and, closer than that, his teammates gathering around them, the press trying to get between their bodies. Flashes, cameras, his name being shout over and over again, questions everywhere. Bob tries to clam everyone down as he looks over his shoulder, Tom laughs hard and cheers at them, and Spencer is standing between the press and them, his back almost leaning against them. Ryan doesn’t know what the words sounding over the speakers are saying because he can’t hear them clearly, he doesn’t know if they were seen by everyone, if they were showed in the screen or if they just have been seen by the closest ones in the ice.

What he does know is that Brendon feels like something stable there, safe, something keeping him in this world and making him be right what he wants to be. Ryan could think right know about all the reasons why this may had been a bad idea, but he’s unable to because it’s impossible for something that feels so right be wrong. There’s nothing in his head right now making him think otherwise, making him change his mind about him being, right know, the happiest person in the world, not just because he got the cup he dreamt about since he was eight years old, but because he found the only person that has taught him to love along the way for it.

If this is so wrong, in that exact moment, with tears on his face and euphoria in his veins, everything blurred around him like this is part of a dream and Brendon’s face still under his hands with a smile and eyes bright, Ryan just can’t bring himself to care.

 

 

 


End file.
